Holly Jolly Help
by Dreamer1920
Summary: It's the day before Christmas and Sandy needs some help decorating the Treedome before her sister and three nieces arrive. SpongeBob, of course, is there to lend a hand. But during all the fun-filled activities, the two find that the magic of the holiday spirit isn't the only magic swirling in the air.
1. Chapter 1: Snow & Other Pretty Things

**Hello! Wow, Christmas is just around the corner! :O To celebrate, I have a little story for you here! FYI, I acknowledge that this concept of SpongeBob in Sandy's Treedome with the snow has been done **_**countless**_** times already in other stories, but after reading some of them myself, I figured eh? How about I write my own little spin on the idea? Lol. However, the one particular fic that was the main inspiration for this, was one written by AtomicFlounder. ATF, thank you for the inspiration! Oh, and since it's Christmas-themed, I am going to throw in a couple of festive clichés because…well, why not? Lol. Anywho, I hope that you enjoy this, my friends. Thank you so much for reading! (And sorry for such a long note).**

**Disclaimer: As I always say, I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters. All rights go to the late Stephen Hillenburg, Nickelodeon and Viacom.**

* * *

**Holly Jolly Help**

The beginning of a brand-new day in Bikini Bottom shined with the natural rays of the sun. The fiery orb took its time in lifting the shadows from every corner of the city, starting with giant rocks, working its way through the icy streets where bundled-up fish-folks shopped for Christmas presents. And finally, it ended with the fruity home of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Short, deep-green curtains with delicate, white Christmas trees sewn into them were pulled aside by SpongeBob as he leaned forward in front of the kitchen sink. His blue eyes met the even brighter blueness of the ocean sky through the shiny window. He sucked in a slow breath through his nostrils; the cool, soothing water adding to his beatific mood.

Ah, December 24th. There was something about it that SpongeBob adored just as much as he did the day that followed.

The cold, refreshing water that flowed with sparkling ice crystals, the anticipation of opening a gift in the evening, waiting patiently as the sky darkened and knowing that Christmas was drawing nearer, or simply gathering around a fire with friends and singing cheerful songs for everyone to enjoy. (Well, everyone except for Squidward, of course). All that and more always managed to fill SpongeBob's already-pure heart with the utmost joy.

The spirit of that joy was extra generous to the lad this year.

"Goodness, what a _beautiful_ day!" said SpongeBob, his tone of voice exuberant and his smile showcasing the jolliness in his heart. He sighed and stretched his arms, relieving the tension within them.

_Oh, boy. I can't __**wait**__ to see Sandy later! I wonder if she'll like my new set of clothes. _SpongeBob glanced down at the dark-brown velvety pants that slightly hugged his upper legs while providing a nice little flare above his shoes. Even though he still loved his signature short-sleeve square pants and red tie, he had to admit – changing up his style for warmer, snazzy winter clothes made him feel like a new sponge! Perhaps even a _manlier _version of himself.

His cheeks puffed up and his teeth pressed into his lower lip in admiration of his long, brownish-grey sleeves and the burgundy stripe that ran down the center of his attire.

"Meow? (Drooling over yourself again, Papa-Bob?)"

SpongeBob's head snapped up, and he looked at his pet snail in embarrassment. How long had that little rascal been sitting there?

"Oh, good morning to you too, Gary!" he said, trying to forget the fact that he had been caught.

The mollusk stared at his owner with his eyelids half-closed, answering him in an uninterested tone. "Meow (I didn't _say_ 'good morning' to begin with, but okay.)"

Oh, that Gary. _Such_ a kidder.

SpongeBob released a short chuckle and gave Gary a wave of the hand while he reached up into the cupboard for a can of Snail-Po. "How about some breakfast, Gare?"

"Meow (Sounds good to me.)" He quietly slithered to his green bowl and waited to be served. There was _nothing_ in the world that a snail loved more than his Po. At least, that was the case when it came to Gary.

"Oh, Gary," SpongeBob gushed, his insides tightening with excitement. "Today is gonna be so much fun! I'm going over to Sandy's place to help her decorate for tomorrow." He gently twisted the tin can to help the automatic opener remove the lid.

Gary rolled his eyes. "Meow (Yeah, I know. You've told me about this like seven time- )"

"We're gonna string up lights in her tree, and bake gingerbread cookies, and maybe even have a snowball fight! OH, I can hardly wait!" he leaped and giggled.

"Isn't Sandy supposed to be hibernating this time of year?" a familiar, deep voice behind SpongeBob asked.

SpongeBob nodded in response, maintaining his blissful smile as he pulled the lid off the can. "Oh, yeah, she is. But you see, some of Sandy's family is coming to visit her from Texas and she–wait… what?" he turned away from the counter and faced the table, raising his eyebrows. "Patrick? W-When did _you_ get in here?"

Patrick, dressed in an ill-fitting, lime-green sweater with balls of fuzz all over the fabric, shrugged and looked at his best friend with a blank expression. "As soon as I heard the mentioning of gingerbread cookies," he showed a small smile and placed his hands behind his head, leaning back in the chair.

SpongeBob grinned in amusement and shook his head. He walked over and stood in front of Gary's bowl, dumping the mushy Snail-Po into it and casting his square shadow over his pet. "I'll ask Sandy if I can bring some home for you, Pat."

Patrick's eyes glowed with white specks, and he sprang forward in his seat. "Really? For _me? _WOO-HOO! Oh, boy," he rubbed his hands together and stared into space with a devilish grin. "I can just **taste** the warm, chewy arms and legs of one of those _tasty_ gingerbread men!"

Gary looked up from his food and stared at the starfish, a bit disturbed while his eyelid twitched. "Meow (Jeez, I hope Sandy doesn't have any star-shaped cookie cutters.)"

SpongeBob turned and looked at him with curiosity while he poured himself a bowl of Kelp-O at the table. "Why's that, Gare-Bear?"

"Meow (Because then Tubby would be a cannibal.)"

SpongeBob inhaled harshly and ceased pouring the rest of the cereal. "Gary! Shame on you for saying such a thing!"

Patrick shrugged for the second time and flashed a look of indifference. "Oh, don't worry about it, SpongeBob."

The two looked at each other and shared a brotherly smile of understanding.

"I can't be insulted by a word I _don't know_ the meaning of." Patrick kicked his feet up on the table without a care in the world.

SpongeBob and Gary looked at each other blankly. The cliché saying was true: ignorance is bliss.

* * *

_Later…_

As the mid-morning sun helped to spread some much-needed warmth throughout the water, SpongeBob's feet carried him through a thick layer of glittery snow. He worked hard each time he pulled a foot out from the crunchiness and pushed it back down. Boy, the walk to Sandy's place sure seemed long today.

But to him, it was worth it. He got the opportunity to help out one of his best friends and make sure that her homely air-dome was as bright, festive and welcoming as it possibly could be. That should be easy to accomplish, considering that the two were very hard workers and didn't quit until a job was done.

They were both also kind, considerate, and thoughtful.

Sure, the two differed in many, many ways; they _were_ two totally different species, for starters. However, as was the case for most friends, they did still share similar traits and had things in common.

Well, except in the intelligence department. SpongeBob had a brain and was certainly smarter than Patrick, but his head was no match for the air-breathing scientist's skilled mind. Still, that didn't get in the way of most things between them.

No, there was something a _little_ different that had been getting in the way as of late. Something that, while neither of them wanted to admit was there, _was _undoubtedly still there.

Neither had any way of knowing whether that "something" was going to stay dormant today or if it was going to bloom like a beautiful, red rose.

The danger of that happening was quite high.

It was Christmas time, that warm and cozy time of year when romance was prevalent in nearly every corner. Happily married couples gifting each other something special, fish-folks strolling down the ice-covered sidewalks (proceeding to slip and almost fall until one caught the other in an unexpected, awkward embrace), and how could one forget about… _mistletoe? _

SpongeBob approached the outside of the Treedome, adjusting his grey earmuffs and throwing one end of his red scarf over his shoulder before he pressed the button that activated the doorbell.

_**Five seconds… ten seconds…**_

SpongeBob glanced at his wristwatch, then rang once more.

_**Thirty seconds…**_

His smile turned into a small frown, and he rubbed his knuckle with his bare hand. With the temperature the way that it was, he regretted not bringing his mittens.

_Hmm… that's funny. Sandy usually buzzes me in at around the seven and a half second mark. Maybe she's too busy to come to the door… or, even worse… maybe she's frozen and has turned into a helpless squirrelsicle! _He gasped, slapping his cold hands against his cheeks. He wouldn't be able to _live_ with himself if he didn't help her out of such a terrible (albeit stupid and unlikely) position!

Using all his strength, he gripped the icy-cold wheel to the door and twisted it open, grunting lowly in the process. Once open, he shut it behind him as quickly as possible to avoid too much water invading the corridor.

SpongeBob wasted no time in entering through the last exit. He pushed the door open, breathing hard and speaking in a panicked tone. "Don't worry, Sandy! I'll think of something to break you out of that ice!"

The muscles in his face relaxed, and his eyes scanned the giant room in amazement.

Tiny, soft flurries floated down and landed onto a sparkling white and blue blanket that veiled the grass. Something about the snow in Sandy's Treedome always made the snow _outside_ look… grubby. Perhaps it was the crisp, clean air that produced such a pure result. After all, the ocean water was high in turbidity.

"Whoa…" he murmured, stepping inside and closing the squeaky door. His head wandered in many directions as he took in the beauty of the current state of the dome. The oak tree itself was covered in ice crystals and blobs of snow on certain branches. One thing that stuck out more than the other things was a long cord of Christmas lights that were wrapped around the trunk of the tree, waiting to be worked all throughout it and eventually plugged in.

He stuck his hands in his pockets before abruptly stopping at the sight of Sandy sitting at the picnic table, her back turned and one leg crossed over the other.

"Oh, she's okay. Thank goodness," he said, smiling.

"Uh-huh. Well, what time do y'all think you'll get here?" Sandy asked, holding her wooden telephone up to her ear.

Her sister Rosy was doing all she could to remain un-irritated by her three little monster squirrels as they ran around and caused trouble at the airport. "Well, I'd say we should probably be there no later than six or seven tomorrow, Sis. It's gonna one long plane ride to that bus that takes us down to your part of the ocean."

"YAH!" Macadamia flew in the air and kicked a raccoon in the face, knocking him to the ground and causing him to drop his cell phone.

Rosy cringed and breathed a heavy sigh. "Yep… one… _**long**_ plane ride."

The sounds of Sandy's three rambunctious nieces filled her ears through the receiver. "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" she chuckled at the noises and the drained tone of her sister's voice. Though she felt sympathy for Rosy having to live with them and their behavior, she would be lying if she said it _wasn't_ sometimes hilarious to hear that she was so sick of it. And gall-darn it, she _really_ was.

SpongeBob's smile grew even larger from her laughter. Sandy was a tough and masculine woman, but the way that she giggled reminded him of a little girly-girl. An incredibly _adorable_ little girly-girl.

"Well, just know I'll be sittin' here praying that ya make it in one piece, Rosy. You keep them little critters under control, k?" she nodded.

Rosy's voice came through the phone sounding like a mouse speaking gibberish. SpongeBob couldn't understand a word.

"Alrighty, see ya tomorrow, bye!" Sandy said in a cheerful tone. She placed the receiver down on the hook and sighed in contentment. Pulling the soft, light purple fabric of her dress up a bit, she turned from the edge of the seat and faced the table with a smile.

"Hi, Sandy!"

"Hah!" she gasped at the voice that came out of nowhere. She breathed out heavy breaths and looked out a few feet to the side of her, her expression turning slightly annoyed. However, instead of scolding him for scaring her (and the fact it looked he was spying on her), she quickly wiped that look off her face and smiled. How could she get angry with that innocent, sheepish smile he was giving her?

"Well, hey, SpongeBob! How long have ya been standin' there?"

SpongeBob clasped his hands behind his back. His smiling eyes drifted off toward the ceiling, and his nervous right foot twisted itself around in the snow. "Oh, I've been here only a minute or two. I rang the bell, but I figured you were busy, so I just came in."

Saying that she was "busy" (which was something he _did_ consider at first) was far easier and less embarrassing to admit to than telling her he had then thought she was frozen solid and in need of saving.

"Oh. I guess I was so caught up on the phone with Rosy, I just didn't hear ya. Sorry 'bout that, little buddy." The way her eyebrows curved let him know that she was truly disappointed with herself.

He stepped closer and pulled his hands from his pockets, waving them at her. "Oh, that's okay! Don't worry about it. At least I'm not out in the cold anymore!" he smiled.

Sandy glanced up at their surroundings, then looked back at him questioningly. "Uh…"

SpongeBob's pulse sped up at the embarrassment he felt from his words. "Oh, yeah. Dahaha!" he laughed. _Oh, barnacles. What a stupid thing to say, SpongeBob! _ He thought in a deprecating voice.

Oh, there was that awkwardness again. It had been happening to them _a lot_ lately. He lost count how many times he had said something dumb whenever he came to see her. In reality, it was no dumber than anything he usually said, but the rapport between seemed to be… changing; as a result, things flew out of his mouth that made even the words of _Patrick_ sound smart, and that affected him so strangely.

"Anyway," said Sandy, dragging out the word. "Are ya ready to get crackin' and do some decoratin'?" she bit her bottom lip with her large buckteeth and looked at him with hope in her eyes.

SpongeBob was grateful that she changed the subject. "Oh, YEAH! You _bet_ I'm ready, San-day!" he grinned and clenched his fists.

"Great! I've got some of the stuff kinda sprawled out everywhere, but I reckon I've got lots more shiny and pretty things hidden up in that ol' upstairs closet we can sift through." She scooted out from the bench and stood, allowing SpongeBob to get a good view of her.

_Speaking_ of pretty things…

The lovely shade of purple that made up her long-sleeve dress was complemented by the pure-white ruffle around her neck and collarbone, along with matching buttons that came down the front and looked as delicate as the snow flurries. And for once, the squirrel was wearing something other than her grey space boots; her furry feet were kept extra warm by a black pair of slippers, and white, lacy socks peeked above them.

SpongeBob released a heavy breath that resulted in thick, moist fog, and he slowly smiled. She looked so elegant and old-fashioned, like a classy lady getting ready for bed in the days of the Old West. "Wow, Sandy. That's a really nice outfit! Dahaha, listen to me," he waved at the air and rolled his eyes. "I sound like Pearl."

Sandy chuckled and looked down at herself. "Aw, shucks! Ya mean this ol' thing? Belonged to my great granny in the olden days of Texas. She used to wear it all the time while she busted her butt doin' housework for my great grandpappy."

SpongeBob invested all his attention in her words. His smile only seemed to grow sweeter the more she spoke.

"Yessiree Bob, just this simple piece of clothin' brings back a whole lot of memories to your ol' squirrely pal." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked straight ahead as scenes played in front of her; scenes that were originally painted in her imagination by her late grandmother. "Well, even though I wasn't there to live through it, I surely know that life was a lot different back in those days, SpongeBob. Things were tough."

"And pretty, too."

Sandy's head tilted down in his direction. The questioning, unsure look on her face made SpongeBob wish that he could stuff a chunk of snow into his mouth to stop spewing any more words that could _possibly_ get him into trouble.

"Uh… aha, ah, ha, ha! I-I mean, I'm just saying since… t-that _dress _is so pretty and it _came_ from those old, dusty days you're talking about, I-I just thought that… that those days must've been… well, you know…?"

"Pretty?" she answered flatly.

He nodded in a quick manner. "Y-Yeah… pretty. So, _so very_ pretty. I know that probably doesn't make much sense, but… oh, do you get what I mean?" He pressed his lips together tightly, keeping his hands behind his back. Why did his face suddenly feel so hot? It was _freezing_ cold in there!

Sandy glanced off to the side, a faint, crooked smile crossing her lips. "Uh… yeah. I think I get it. Thanks, SpongeBob." Secretly feeling just as awkward as she imagined he was feeling, she looked back at him and noticed that she wasn't the only one wearing something different.

"Hey, speakin' of fancy getups, I like yours!"

SpongeBob's eyebrows raised high, and his breathing pattern began to change from normal to… well, one could say that it sounded like he had just come back from jogging. "R-really? You really like it, Sandy? Heh, thanks." He brushed his shoulder as if it was covered in sand. "It was just something I had _hangin' around_ for a couple of years. I made it myself in my free time, actually." He shut his eyes and exuded an arrogance that was just _begging_ to be torn down.

"Uh, are you _sure_ about that, SpongeBob?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why, **yes**, I am sure of it, Sandy. Why ever do you ask?"

"'Cause, uh…"

SpongeBob's hubris was thrown fifty yards when Sandy leaned toward his sleeve and grabbed the little beige tag that read: _$24.95 – Fancy Pants Emporium. _

Sandy tilted her head to the side as he looked up at her with mortified eyes. "Heh, heh… Sandy, I, uh- "

"Why don't we just get to work?"

It was too bad that it was snowing and he did not need his helmet. The blue tint from the water could've done _something _to help disguise his reddening cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2: Mine Will Be Better

**Hello! Gee, it's been quite a while since I published this, huh? Sorry about that, guys. I've been pretty busy lately, and also a bit stuck on where exactly to take this story (CURSE YOU, WRITER'S BLOCK!) Lol. But no worries, it's here now. Thank you for reading, favoriting, following, and for your awesome reviews! I appreciate it. I was inspired by Spades And Swords to write this chapter since she loves Plankton and Karen so much; I just had to add them in a little bit. I hope you like it, Spade!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Holly Jolly Help**

Like any frosty, wintery day, many people were out and about engaging in festive activities. Ice skating, enjoying hot cocoa at local cafés and coffee shops while chatting with friends, picking out the best Christmas trees they could find (whether it be from the Kelp Forest, or from some home improvement store), gathering around sidewalks and listening to street performers play classic holiday songs on their instrument of choice – Bikini Bottom was a wonderland of friendliness and joy this time around.

However, this year (like any other year), a good amount of the Bikini Bottomites had failed to do their Christmas shopping ahead of time, which left them with very little time and only _one_ thing to spend their day doing.

The local mall was as crowded as could be, with fish-folks of all different sizes, wearing all kinds of cheesy Christmas sweaters, flocking to stores and blowing their money on gifts for their families and friends.

The giant building was pleasantly shaded a cool blue, with bright white snowflakes made from paper hanging from walls and ceilings, garland twisted around every staircase railing, silver bells jingling from wreaths that hung on entrances to shops, and a tall, brightly lit tree in the center of everything.

In front of said tree was a throne-like chair for "Santa Claus" to sit in, along with a small fish dressed in a green elf costume, and a long line of children waiting their turn to inform the Santa-fish of what they wanted the next day.

"Ho, ho, ho, little fellow! Merry Christmas!" said the bluefish in the red suit and synthetic beard, presenting the child in his lap with the deepest (and fakest) voice he could muster. If he wanted to get paid, he needed to be as convincing as possible, which _seemed_ to be working so far until…

The little orange fish looked up at him suspiciously. "Hey, you don't sound like Santa Claus to _me," _he said, skeptically.

Santa chuckled jollily and smiled at him. "Nonsense, my boy! What makes you think I don't sound like myself?"

The child crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Well, your voice just cracked like **three** times, for one." His remark made all the other children in line giggle. "Besides, you're too _lame_ to be the **real** Santa."

Santa peered at the floor, his face cringing in utter annoyance. The type of attitude from the child in his lap reminded him of the middle school bullies he dealt with when he was younger. _Every generation, they never get any better. They just get brattier and brattier, _he thought.

Brushing off his flustered nerves, Santa shook his head and played the part the best that he could. "Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho… **ho,**" he forced out, sounding like it was the most difficult and agitating task on Earth. Almost, he_ almost _did his best. "Well, my dear boy, enough with the uh… small talk. It's time for you to tell Santa what you want for Christmas this year," he smiled.

The young fish smirked. "Hmm… let me think… ooh, I want there to be a holiday dedicated to losers! It could be called 'Santa's Day Off'!" he laughed along with the other children.

Santa shook with anger and growled, ripping off his white beard and slamming it onto the ground. "UGH! Fish-paste! I swear, all I wanted to do was make a _little_ extra money, and I have to put up with little snot-nose barnacles like all of you!" he exclaimed, shaking his fist at everyone.

The line went silent. Every kid glanced at one another; each one forming the same diabolical plan to get revenge on poor ol' St. Nick for his brutally honest insult.

A good one-hundred feet away or so, stood Mr. Krabs and Squidward. The crustacean couldn't help but watch in grand curiosity and sympathy as the fish in a Santa Claus costume ran, got dragged, screamed, and had spitballs thrown at him by the obnoxious children.

Mr. Krabs, dressed in a navy blue sweater and green scarf, winced at the thought of the humiliation the fish was enduring. "Yeesh, I sure am glad I ain't in **that **guy's snow boots."

Squidward, however, couldn't focus very well on what his boss was speaking about. The octopus stood hunched over, with a large Christmas tree leaning against his back. "Oh, I'd rather be in _anyone_ else's shoes or boots than where I am right now! _Why _couldn't we have just left this stupid thing in the boat?" he asked, clearly in pain and under immense physical pressure.

Mr. Krabs placed his claws on his hips and looked at his employee sternly. "Because I don't want some greedy barnacle lurkin' around in the parkin' lot and stealin' it. I didn't chop that thing down for _**nothin', **_ya know."

Squidward grunted as he lost some of his grip on the tree. He hadn't a clue that wearing his fuzzy, light brown sweater would be such a terrible idea on this day; his whole body was drenched in sweat due to how much he was being forced to use his muscles. "You didn't chop it down at all! _**I**_ did all the work!"

"Well, _**I **_gave ya the orders, just like I'm doin' right now. Move your lazy tentacles! We need to find the perfect present for me sweet Puff."

The two walked -Mr. Krabs did, at least. Squidward was dragging along slowly, with the tree scraping against the ground- into a women's boutique. The store's walls were colored deep-rose, and racks of clothes, hats, and shoes were situated neatly in all areas.

Mr. Krabs shifted his eyestalks around in search of something that would capture his attention; or, rather, something that he thought would capture the essence of Mrs. Puff. He eyed a specific rack of hats, and the memory of her wearing that lovely sunhat from many years ago came to his mind.

_Ah-ha, _he thought, satisfied and intrigued. He scuttled over to the rack that was lined with a mix of feminine hats for every occasion, many decorated with flowers and feathers.

"Hmm…" he looked up at a plain, bright purple hat with a wide brim. "Well, somethin' tells me this would be most becoming on me Puffilly-poo," he smiled while picturing how well the color would complement her blonde locks. He reached up and gripped the top of the rough material, lifting it.

"AHH! Wait, I was _just _about to read the price tag– what the– Krabs?!" said a shocked Plankton, dangling from the inside of the hat.

Mr. Krabs' eyestalks widened in surprise, and his guard quickly went up at the sight of his nemesis. "Plankton?! What in Neptune's blue ocean are ye doin' here?"

"What does it **look** like I'm doing?" asked Plankton, sarcastic and already annoyed beyond words.

Mr. Krabs shrugged. "How should I know? Perhaps you're buyin' yourself this hat to use as a shield to protect yourself from your own failures, arg arg arg arg arg!"

Plankton rolled his eye and planted on hand on his hip. "Tee-hee-hee, you're **so** funny. No, for your information, I'm buying Karen a Christmas present," he smiled in a smug manner.

He _knew_ he should have spent more time in the computer and gadget store before throwing up his hands and opting to buy something that he was unsure would be useful to his wife. After all, she was a piece of technology that had no need for any frilly items. But he was out of ideas at this point (and desperate), and seeing that Karen had become more interested in doing girly things, like being 'Gal Pals' with Sandy, Mrs. Puff, and occasionally Pearl, it gave him the idea that gifting her with something different might not be so bad after all.

Mr. Krabs huffed, scoffing at him. "Heh, you? Since when are _**you**_ a thoughtful husband?"

Keeping the smile on his face, Plankton explained himself quickly. "Since Karen lasered me this morning after I told her she's just as foolish as everyone else for liking this moronic holiday, **BUT** it doesn't matter," he grinned. "Enough about me and what **I'm** doing, Krabsy. Just what are you and your worthless employee doing here?"

Mr. Krabs was rather offended. "Hey, Squidward ain't worthless!" he then smiled and placed his free claw behind his back. "He makes for an **excellent** shopping cart, don't ye, Mr. Squidward?" he looked all around, expecting to see said octopus. "Squidward?"

"Oh," he groaned, laying flat on the floor, his arms and legs spread out, with the tree on top of his back and covering most of his body.

The concerned woman at the register leaned forward and glanced down at him. "Is he okay?" she asked, looking at Mr. Krabs, who nervously nodded.

"Heh, oh, he's fine." He said, smiling widely at her until she began paying attention to something else. "_Squidward," _he whispered through the side of his mouth. "Get up, you're embarrassin' yourself."

"I'm in too much pain to be embarrassed right now," Squidward answered in a muffled voice, aching all over.

"Well, you're embarrassin' **me!**" said Mr. Krabs, glancing at a few women with confused looks on their faces. He chuckled and poked Squidward in the leg with his foot, causing another groan to erupt from him.

Plankton cleared his throat. "You still haven't answered my question, Krab-cake."

Mr. Krabs peered at the little booger attached to the hat. "I just so happen to be lookin' for a gift meself. Somethin' special for me Sweet Puff," he answered, lifting his head loftily.

"Ha! Good luck with that, Eugene. I can bet a million dollars that my gift to Karen is gonna be way better!" Plankton shouted with a large, evil smile.

"Oh, keep dreamin'! You don't even _**have**_ a million dollars to bet in the first place," Mr. Krabs gave him a snooty nod with his eyestalks.

"Frankly, neither do you."

Mr. Krabs gasped loudly, suddenly oblivious to all the women staring at the strange scene. "What a filthy lie! I do too have a million dollars!" he stomped.

"How can you be sure when you've never spent a _**single penny **_of it?!" Plankton teased, swiveling his shoulders like a catty gossiping woman.

Mr. Krabs clenched his teeth _and_ his claw. "Oh, why, I ought to– er, never mind. The point is me gift to Mrs. Puff is gonna blow yours out of the water!"

"Wrong! My gift to Karen is going to be _so_ great, the whole town will have **no choice** but to grovel at my feet!"

From then on, the two men continuously shouted nonsense at each other. Luckily for their pride, they had no idea that the two women they were arguing over were just outside of the shop, both sipping on lattes.

Karen sighed, not surprised by her husband's actions. "Well, would you look at that, Gal Pal? Our men are childish enough to fight over who'll get the better gift," she said, looking over at Mrs. Puff.

The teacher shook her head and took a sip of the foamy drink in her mug. "I know. They're acting more immature than some of the teenagers at my boating school. It's really just ridiculous," she waved her fin through the air and smiled.

Karen nodded. "You said it. You know, this reminds me – I should finish my gift hunt for Sheldon."

"And I should finish mine for Eugene. Oh, wait till you see what I'm getting him," she said, her tone excited.

"Oh, no. Just wait and see what **I'm **getting for Sheldon. It's really quite something," said Karen. In truth, neither one had a single clue what they were going to be getting, but why admit to that, when they could just play pretend and make themselves feel better about it?

They stared back into the shop window, both sighing.

"Mine will be better," they said simultaneously, then looked at each other.

Mrs. Puff blinked, while Karen kept her screen blank. After an awkward silence, they shared in some light chuckling.

Who knew Christmas time could be such a _competitive _time?


	3. Chapter 3: Mischief & Twinkling Branches

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! This chapter is longer than the first two, it's kinda all over the place, and it **_**still**_has** a lot to get through, so I'm splitting it up again. Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Holly Jolly Help**

_~French Narrator~_

"Meanwhile, away from the hustle and the bustle."

The dainty, cushiony-soft flecks of shimmering snow continued to fall ever so slightly outside of the treehouse, where SpongeBob and Sandy worked to remove a stack of bins filled with scientific supplies away from a tall door.

The freezing air was cutting through SpongeBob's porous body, but he was too happily distracted by the thought of looking into the mysterious closet and decorating to even care about the icy knife stabbing his skin. And getting used to being without his water helmet was surprisingly easy to him; the thick moistness of the air was just enough to keep him from drying out, which felt a bit strange but also freeing.

Dark shadows permeated throughout most of the room, in contrast to the white brilliance of the outside. The house made of oak was in desperate need of a festive change, and the two were one step closer to making that happen.

"Hmph," Sandy grunted softly while she lifted the last box, finally revealing the full view of the closet door that was built from a miniature tree. "There," she said, smiling with her hands on her hips in satisfaction.

Catching the effect of her contagious smile, SpongeBob grinned up at her and rubbed his hands together. "Ooh, I can't wait to see what's inside! How come you've never shown me this area of your treehouse before?"

"Well," Sandy hesitantly began, twisting the brown, metal doorknob. The creaky door swung open, and the pitch-blackness of the deep space stared back at them.

The shadowy square-footage gave SpongeBob chills that he _should've _been getting from the cold. He was never a big fan of the darkness. And seeing as how they were _in_ a room surrounded by it, looking into a place that resembled an endless void, he couldn't help but remember the time that he ran back and forth to the grocery store like a crazy man to buy nightlights.

He swallowed and swiftly shook his head, smiling in a nervous way. "Oh, I think I see why," he said, suddenly overtaken by a cold sweat.

Sandy looked upon him with a little bit of sympathy, sinking to her knees alongside him. "Yeah, I always figured you might be bothered by such a thing."

"You mean the dark?" he asked, raising his eyebrows while she nodded.

"Uh-huh. But hey, it's okay. There ain't nothin' wrong with bein' afraid of the dark," she said with an understanding smile.

He chuckled with complacency, closing his eyes. "Oh-ho, _me? _Afraid of it? Heh, it seems you've still got quite a lot to learn about me, Sandra." He was drenched in cologne that she had yet to notice and was dressed to impress. Letting her believe that he would be so childish as to be scared of something so silly was _not_ on his list of things to present himself as "manly" today. He had to be strong, tough! He had to show no fear, no matter what!

Of course, any hope for that was destroyed when loud sounds of sharp and plastic-like objects hitting the floor escaped from the closet.

"AH!" he screamed, zooming to the side so that he was protected behind Sandy's back.

His trembling was evident to her just by his cold hands gripping her shoulders. She rolled her eyes. Typical SpongeBob. "Naw, I'm pretty sure I know enough about ya already, _Robert."_ She pulled out a red flashlight and flipped the switch to "on", which didn't seem to be working, so she repeatedly smacked the side of it with her palm.

SpongeBob's widened eyes peeked at what she was doing, his nose resting on her shoulder, close to the side of her neck. "No, Sandy! Don't do it! You never know what kind of _creepy, __**horrible**_ thing could be lurking around in there!"

"Oh, don't be silly."

"That's what they _always _say in horror movies before someone loses their hand!" he gulped. "_Or their head."_

The light inside the bulb finally showed through, and she shined it into the open space, much to SpongeBob's horror.

He shook his head into her back, squeezing her shoulders even tighter while he spoke muffled words, terrified. "No, no! We're doomed, we're… doomed…" his voice trailed off. "What the…?" he stood higher on his knees.

A tiny earthworm slithered out of an open, brown box that had fallen to the floor, among other items that had crashed. The creature slowly moved past them, seeking another home inside the tree.

Silence fell between them until Sandy spoke up in a lighthearted tone. "Well, who knew such a 'creepy' and _terribly __**cute**_ little critter could cause that big of a ruckus?"

SpongeBob moved out from behind her back, his face flooding with embarrassment. Sitting beside her again, he rubbed the backside of his head. "Hahaha, yeah. That's what I say whenever Gary throws a tantrum at home, ahaha… heh." He looked away from her. He might as well forget about that mental "manly list".

Sandy peeked at him from the side of her eye and smiled to herself without him noticing. There was something about his pride fading into nothingness that was cuter to her than she would like to admit out loud.

"Come on, why don't we have a look-see at what we can find?" she smiled, elbowing him playfully. SpongeBob smiled in response and followed her into the closet.

* * *

The awkwardness subsided after they sorted through the contents that had spilled from the boxes. One box, in particular, was still filled high with some of the "shiny and pretty things" that Sandy had mentioned a while ago: Christmas bulbs of many colors, silvery tinsel and rich, green garland, blue and white rubber window clings shaped like snowflakes, gold stars attached to strings that were designed to be hung from high places – everything they found fascinated SpongeBob, which Sandy knew would be the case, as he was never anything less than endearing and childlike in the best way.

With all the other boxes of supplies they needed set aside, Sandy was flabbergasted by the latest discovery in her hands. "Hey, SpongeBob, looky at what I just found!" she called from the right corner of the closet.

By hearing the excited tone of her voice, SpongeBob was prompted to leave his own corner and see what she was talking about as quickly as possible. He turned around, shining the second flashlight that she had given him. "Ooh! I'm coming– "

_**Bonk! **_His right leg hooked the inside of a box, causing him to roughly fall facedown. "I'm not… coming…" he groaned, his voice cracking and his hands burning from getting scraped against the harsh ground.

Sandy shined her light on him and shook her head. _What a klutz, _she thought, good-naturedly. Once she reached him, she grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up to his feet.

SpongeBob dusted himself off. "Thanks. _Ptooie!" _he spat a small chunk of wood onto the floor. He looked up and noticed the old-looking, large, black book she held between her fingers. Greatly intrigued, he took a big step toward her, his eyes focusing on the object.

"So, what is it, Sandy?"

She smiled at him, happy to share her sentimental finding. "This here's an old photo album of Texas." The book opened like magic in the palms of her hands; perfectly captured pictures from different eras of The Lone Star State were spread out across the off-white, stained pages.

"Wow, this is amazing! Look at that one," SpongeBob pointed at a black and white photo of a young cowboy squirrel, having the time of his life while riding a bull.

"That's my great grandpappy! He was a rodeo champion _eight_ times in a row back in his day, yee-haw!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot in excitement.

SpongeBob scratched the side of his head. "Yeesh, it must've hurt his butt real bad to ride that bull."

"' Course it did, but that's part of what made it fun!"

SpongeBob wanted to believe her, but after the bad accident that he had years ago that made him too scared to leave his house, he just couldn't bear to think about slamming one's keister into something as hard as the back of a beast.

Sandy turned the page once more, and pictures that appeared to be taken during wintertime were revealed. She smiled brightly at one of a young, female squirrel standing in front of a tree.

"Hey, look! It looks like she's wearing your dress!" said SpongeBob in surprise.

"That's my great granny, SpongeBob. Remember what I told ya earlier?" she asked, looking down at him.

He thought for a moment, glancing at the floor. "Oh, yeah. Now I remember," he smiled.

Finally, both sets of eyes landed upon a bustling town full squirrels and other rodents, some of which were riding those huge animals called "horses". The ground was covered in a layer of white that looked to be around eight inches thick, and decorations adorned every corner of the town. Though none of the photos were in color, they still brought Sandy a sense of warmth and joy toward her family, her old life in Texas, and most of all, the holiday spirit. Looking at the specific photo that she was at that moment, those feelings only grew stronger.

"Golly," Sandy shook her head, reminiscing. "I can't believe I forgot about this thing. I've just left it in here all these years…I haven't looked at it in so long."

Her voice, the look of deep thoughts written on her face, and her endless gazing at the book brought SpongeBob to a realization. "Sandy… this book belonged to your great granny, didn't it?"

It took mental strength for her to meet his eyes. "It did, SpongeBob. It did. My granny loved the holidays, and she loved her family. The fact that she loved _me_ enough to gift me with all her memories just warms my Texas-tough heart in ways I never even thought it could."

SpongeBob offered her a sweet smile and brushed his hand over the crisp page. "Aw, you've got a _big_ heart, Sandy."

"Eh, it's not as big as yours, SpongeBob. Other than my granny, I don't think there's a single person I've ever met who has a heart that's half as kind as yours."

He was he taken aback by her truthful remark, and was also moved on the inside; his heart dancing on air. He found himself kicking up dust with his shaky foot, looking away from her. "Oh, well, I… t-thanks, Sandy."

She smiled. "Hey, I'm only tellin' ya what's true." She looked up from the book, taking notice of his change in demeanor. "Are you okay?"

Right then, he couldn't have been more grateful that she wasn't shining her flashlight on his face, or else she'd see the neon pink blush that was spreading across his cheeks. "Oh, yeah! I'm fine, totally fine! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha…" how actual sweat poured down his face in such a cold environment was a mystery.

Sensing that, for whatever reason, he was uncomfortable, Sandy closed the book, creating a thud. "So, how's about we get to decoratin'– "

"Oh, _yes!_ Great idea!" the words sped out of his mouth as he bent down and grabbed a box, then darted out of the closet to exit the treehouse. Luckily, he didn't trip this time.

The squirrel was left to ponder his reaction. Was it something she said? Was her fur stinking? She shrugged and followed in the footsteps of her friend, picking up a box full of decorations that she planned to use, in conjunction with the other items sprawled out in random areas.

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Cue the required humorous montage."

After finding some more window clings that were spread out -some that were twice as large as the ones in the box- SpongeBob stood with his feet sunken into the sparkling snow, staring up at the frosty dome and wondering how he was going to make this work, while Sandy was using the ladder to hang the gold stars on the other side of the room, attaching them to the ceiling with hooks.

Smirking and sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth, he hatched a new plan that would not only get the work done but also impress a certain squirrel.

Sandy, after finishing with half the stars and twisting and tying strands of garland around her exercise wheel, came into view carrying her own box; her purple dress dragging through the slushy snow.

"Oh, _Sandy!"_

Her head whipped around at the teasing voice coming from behind her. "Hey, SpongeBob! Wow…" her eyes wandered around in awe of the snowflakes, Christmas trees, and snowman shapes smoothly stuck to the entire left side of the dome. "Y'all are doin' a great job with them clings!"

He smiled vainly, clutching the last one to his chest. "Why, _thank you._ Care to see how I accomplish such a unique feat, Miss Cheeks?"

She placed one hand on her hip, and her eyebrow raised in amused skepticism. "I would love nothing more, **Mr. SquarePants.**" She sarcastically muttered.

With a wiggle from his hips and a determined look in his eyes, SpongeBob readied himself to perform. "Very well, then. Prepare to witness… _the 'Master Dome Decorator of the Century'!"_

Sandy bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at his ridiculous self-title.

The sponge charged toward the polyurethane, rising into the air in slow-motion. His arms lifted above his head, and his feet flew in the direction behind him as he cried out, "HI-YAH!". He was about to complete his stunt and successfully stick the cling in its rightful place…

That would've happened if he hadn't missed his target by about ten feet. Within seconds, he plummeted into the snow, leaving a deep, square hole where his body landed.

Moments later, while he tried to figure out why his trick had failed him, Sandy stood above the hole, staring down at his squished face. "Want me to grab the ladder?"

"Yes, please," he said, his voice distorted by the odd position of his mouth.

* * *

Next, Sandy circled around the picnic table, straightening out the bright-red cloth that elegantly draped over it. To add the finishing touch, a pure-white vase filled with fresh poinsettias was placed in the center.

She crossed her arms over her chest, pleased with her work. "I just know ol' Rosy's gonna _love_ these. Hey!" a cold blast of ice hit the back of her head. She turned around, her brows furrowing.

"Dahahaha!" SpongeBob laughed hysterically from the very top of the tree. Unfortunately, there was plenty more ammunition from the leaves he was sitting on. "Your move, Snow-Day. Get it? _**Snow-Day?! **_Bahahahaha– BLEGH!" a bowling ball-sized snowball was launched into his mouth, making him fall back onto the greenery.

Sandy smirked, standing next to her catapult that seemingly came out of nowhere. "My name ain't 'Snow-Day', but _you_ clearly had too many of 'em when you were in school. Or should I say, _weren't?_ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" she cackled, holding onto her stomach and doubling over.

While she was too busy enjoying her own humor, she was unaware of the square shadow that drew closer and closer above her head.

"EAT SNOW!"

"Huh?!" she looked for the source of the battle cry at the very last second.

_**PLOP!**_

A second hole was made in the white mess. As Sandy lay on her stomach, she wasn't too surprised about how tolerable it was to have SpongeBob stretched out over her back after he smashed into her; he was very lightweight, after all.

Breathlessly, SpongeBob asked, "Did… did I win?"

"Huh… no," she breathed. "I think we both _lost_, actually."

"Tartar sauce."

* * *

Furry fingers worked to gently wrap the shimmering tinsel around the dark-green wreath that was going to be hung on the outer steel door. Sandy sat at the picnic table, poking her thumb and index finger every few moments from the sharp needles on the wreath, but it wasn't because of carelessness.

"Hehehe."

"Ow."

"Tee-hee, hahaha."

"_Ow."_

"Dahahaha!"

"GALL-DARN IT, SpongeBob!" Sandy exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table.

He looked up at her from the middle of the room, where he was busy crafting a snowman. "Something the matter, Sandy?" he asked, oblivious.

She curved her lips in deciding how to respond. "Well, yeah, kinda. I can't concentrate on makin' this wreath glitzy with you giggling and goofin' around."

"Oh," he frowned and looked at his masterpiece which, Sandy had to admit, was the best dang snowman she had ever seen.

She sighed, feeling guilty. "Just go find somethin' else to do for a bit, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, speaking like a disappointed child.

Sandy sat back down, ready to be able to relax and finish her task.

Alas, even a brief moment of relaxation was not willing to be on her side today. She rose from her seat and peered in the direction of a strange shuffling sound.

SpongeBob could not contain his giggles as he lay on his back in the snow, swinging his limbs up and down vigorously. "Look, Sandy! I'm making a snow angel! Does this count as doing something else?"

"Well, _of course_, it does, but– "

"But what?" he innocently asked, continuing his movements.

Lifting her finger to tell him that by doing something _else_, she meant something _productive, _she soon realized that it was of no use to argue with a man-child. The breath she was holding released itself from her lungs, and she stared into space in defeat. "But _nothin', _I guess."

SpongeBob saw her answer as an opportunity to put her in a better mood. "Why don't you take a break from that wreath for a while and do _'something else'_ instead?" he smiled, biting his lip.

How could such an insufferable creature also be so _unbelievably _persuasive and charming all at the same time?

Sandy's mouth smiled on its own without her permission. "Oh… _alright,_ fine. You win."

"Hooray! _Finally!_" he cheered. "what's my prize?"

"_Don't push it,_" she warned, laying down on the soft snow beside him and imitating his pattern of motions.

* * *

_Three hours later…_

Using a number of innovative methods, they were bringing the place to life. They took a look around the humongous dome, deciding that even with the hundreds of window clings and gold stars, it still needed more of that Christmas pizazz.

While Sandy inched her way along the walls, stringing up what was possibly the world's longest cord of lights, SpongeBob had fashioned a rope to the oak tree and swung three-hundred and sixty degrees around the dome, hooking the rest of the lights in place. It took him only _seconds_ to complete what Sandy had spent hours just starting.

She itched the side of her head in confusion and wonderment. _What in the… how come __**I **__didn't think of that? I'm the smart one here! _

"Woo!" SpongeBob shouted as the cold wind blew into his face, and his stomach took off on him like a plane. He had finished the job, but he _wasn't_ finished with having fun. "Hey, Sandy! Guess what?"

"You're dizzy as all-get-out?" she asked loudly while still watching him.

"Dahaha! **Yes,**" he responded in a regretful voice. "but that's not all. I'm Sponge-zan! Ooh, this reminds me of when I was stranded in the kelp forest with my lucky peanut!" he shifted his eyes up in thought. "Do you wanna be Jane, Sandy?"

She was unsure of how to take such a question. After all, Jane was Tarzan's love interest… _was he suggesting– _

"Uh, no thanks, jungle-man. I can't do any more work if I'm as dizzy as a dog chasin' its tail."

"Oh, well. Suit yourself. AHHHHH!" he belted out his poor imitation of the famous call made by the wild character, his voice high-pitched and squeakier than a chew toy.

Sandy's back was turned as the structure shook violently and he grunted. There was only one explanation for what happened.

She turned around to see "Sponge-zan" squashed against the side of the dome. It was a _good thing_ she decided not to swing on that rope with him.

* * *

In conclusion to the "outside" work, their final endeavor was climbing the oak tree, taking their time in threading the rest of the Christmas lights through the prickly branches.

Globs of snow would occasionally fall on SpongeBob's head, and Sandy would laugh at him. Though the teasing got on his nerves after a while, he did his best to keep moving forward. Of course, as karma would dictate, things shifted in direction when Sandy became frustrated with a section of the cord that refused to cooperate.

"Gosh-dang it! For Neptune's sake, just _get_ on the branch and **STAY THERE!**" she demanded, punching the side of the trunk. Subsequently, she looked a lot like the snowman SpongeBob had built earlier.

Now, it was _his_ turn to laugh. "DAHAHAHA!" he fell back onto the branch, kicking his legs like a school kid who was enjoying another child's misfortune.

His chuckling came to a halt when he began to slip off the branch, unable to stop himself. "Whoa… WHOA!" he yelped and teetered until a hand wrapped around his wrist. He looked up at Sandy, who had wiped away the slush from her eyes.

He smiled. "Oh, thanks, Sandy! You– AHHH!"

He should have paid better attention to the devious look on her face before she flung him down into the snow and laughed.

* * *

The French narrator sighed exhaustedly. "_Finally, _eh… eh…" he panted. "oh, my goodness, that was a lot. I am tired just from _watching _them. Anyway, _a few adjustments later…"_

"Alrighty, almost done…" said Sandy, fiddling with the green extension cord while she sat on a long branch inside the dark tree.

SpongeBob breathed heavily, leaning against the thinner branches behind him. "Heh, that's… great…" his hands rested on his stomach, and his eyelids began to droop.

Sandy heard the fatigue in his voice. "Hey, I know we worked hard, but ya can't fall asleep _yet, _SpongeBob. You'll miss out."

He nodded, his head slowly falling forward. "Oh, don't worry, Sandy. I'm as… wide awake as a… a scallop soaring through the sky," he yawned.

Sandy steadied the prongs of the two plugs to meet the outlet, then smiled at him. "Well, I don't believe that to be the case right _this second,_ but you'll definitely be wide awake after _**this**_."

He looked at her with a questioning face before she proved her own statement true.

The tree exploded into a canopy of brightness; every branch was wrapped up in an endless strip of dazzling red, green, blue, purple, pink, and yellow lights. Gold and silver tinsel twinkled like stars, reflecting off the blazing colors. And traditional Christmas bulbs hung from the boughs, catching the light and creating a shimmery, white stripe across each one.

SpongeBob's tired expression had disappeared, and he beamed in astonishment at the spectacular world surrounding him. All their hard work had truly paid off. "Oh my gosh, Sandy…" he began, searching for the right words to describe how awestruck he was. "T-this is so _beautiful! _This is _fantastical,_ this is… **wow.**"

Sandy chuckled. She had been hoping for a reaction somewhat like this, and he did not disappoint her. "You said it, SpongeBob! I've decorated my tree plenty of times before, but I knew it wasn't nothin' compared to what the two of us together could do," she smiled, leaning toward him.

SpongeBob stared into a blue bulb that dangled in front of him, amazed by how clearly he could see his reflection. "You're right, Sandy. Goodness! Rosy, and your nieces are gonna _flip out_ when they see this!"

"And this, too," she said, pulling back the leaves for them to see that the Treedome looked just as breathtaking.

SpongeBob shook his head in disbelief of what they accomplished. He was bursting with exhilaration. "Oh, I can't _wait _to tell Patrick– "

_**Ring, ring! Ring, ring!**_

They looked at each other after the sudden interruption. SpongeBob reached into his back pocket, pulling out his purple shell phone. "Hello?" he answered, sounding friendly.

"Oh, hey, SpongeBob. I'm glad you picked up; I wasn't sure if I had the right number or not."

SpongeBob glanced at Sandy, wondering if she was as confused as he was by Patrick's words. "Um, Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure you've _always _had my phone number."

The pink starfish shrugged, staring at the dirt residue on his hands that he never washed. "Well, how long would you say 'always' is?"

"Mmm… I don't know, I'd say about twenty years or so."

Patrick scoffed, showing a goofy, clueless smile. "Ha, twenty years is a _long time_, SpongeBob. You can't just _expect_ me to know it off the top of my head."

SpongeBob cocked a brow. "Patrick, that… doesn't really make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

Sandy could hear a lot of what the starfish was saying, and she had to restrain herself from roaring with laughter at SpongeBob's perplexed countenance.

"Oh, never mind," said SpongeBob, brushing away his utter confusion. "anyway, Patrick, I'm so glad you called. Sandy and I just spent hours decorating the Treedome, and it looks amazing! Oh, I really wish you could see it."

Sandy smiled at him while she straightened out a couple of the bulbs.

"Ahh, that sounds awesome, SpongeBob… _ahhhh_."

Sandy's face molded into a look full of disturbance and questions. However, she decided she'd rather _not_ find out what Patrick was sighing so happily about on the other end of the phone.

"Uh, Patrick? W-what are you doing?" asked SpongeBob, uneasy.

"Huh? Oh, I'm just sitting on the couch while Gareth massages my feet."

The mollusk in question had formed two parts of the underside of his belly into the shape of hands, reluctantly squeezing the pink stubs that were making his eyes water, even though his nostrils were pinched tight with a clothespin.

"Wha– _Gareth?_" SpongeBob wondered. "Patrick, are you still in my house?"

Patrick nodded as if his friend could see him. "Well, _duh_. You can't just leave your house unprotected from some kind of bad guy who could show up, so I decided to stay and guard it while you were gone," he smiled.

SpongeBob was about to absentmindedly thank him until Gary voiced his opinion. "Meow (Lies. You just wanted to eat our food.)"

"HEY, BE QUIET!" Patrick commanded, giving him an angry look. "I'm talking to my best friend," he chewed loudly on a handful of popcorn from a bag that he stole from the kitchen cabinet.

Gary was becoming more annoyed the longer he was there. "Meow! (Whatever. You'd better pay me for my services, Tubby!)"

"I will, just as soon as I get a job!" Patrick said in a whiny tone.

"Meow (Which means I'll never get paid.)"

SpongeBob looked worried while hearing their strange argument. "Is everything okay over there?"

"Yeah, everything's _**fine**_**, **I guess," he and the snail glared at each other. "So, what are you guys up to now? Have you made any of those gingerbread cookies yet?" he asked, eagerness rising in his voice as he channel-surfed with the remote.

SpongeBob didn't know why, but when he looked at Sandy again, he couldn't control the smile that appeared or the little chuckle that escaped his lips. "Uh, no, we… haven't made them yet. We still have the Treehouse to decorate before we do that. We're sitting in her tree right now, just… hangin' out," he smoothed the rough surface of the branch beside him.

If only the sponge knew what his response had planted inside Patrick's brain. He grinned, deep giggles running up his throat.

"What in tarnation is he laughin' about?" asked Sandy, unsettled.

SpongeBob shrugged, shooting her an honest expression as he whispered, "I don't know." Clearing his throat and raising his voice back to normal, he asked, "What's so funny, Patrick?"

Patrick wiped away a joyful tear. "Oh, _nothing_, Mr. SpongeBob KissyPants."

SpongeBob's eyes shot wide open. "W-w-what are you talking about?"

"You _said_ you and Sandy were sitting in her tree, right?"

"Well… yeah."

"And since it's snowing, you don't need your helmet, right?"

"Right, but… I don't think I get– "

"Sponge and Sandy, sittin' in a tree," Patrick tauntingly sang, patting his hand against his thigh. "_**K-I-S-S-I-N– "**_

Suddenly, SpongeBob felt more uncomfortable than he had the entire day. He pulled the phone away from his ear and hurled it out of the tree like it was poison. Patrick, as if he knew what was happening and was physically experiencing it, yelled from the speaker, "_**GEEEEEE!**_"

Sandy watched him blankly as he panted and hugged his knees to his chest. "Uhh… what was all that about?" she was unsure if she had actually heard Patrick right.

"Huh?" he looked up at her like he had been caught in his underwear. "Oh, ah, ha, ha!" he nervously waved his hand. "It was nothing, just… Patty being… Patty."

She blinked, and they then held a staring contest for five seconds, which felt like hours. "Oo-kay, then. Well, y'all ready to get started on the inside?"

He couldn't nod fast enough, and he began to move from his spot. "Oh, yeah! That would be _wonderful, _heh, heh."

"Great!" she said with enthusiasm, shifting from where she sat.

They stood on their knees for a moment, trying to find a way to properly get down without hurting themselves. When Sandy leaned forward, an intoxicating scent of woodsy air and musk flowed into her nose.

SpongeBob grew tense as she inhaled deeply near the side of his head. "Well, I'll be darned! Are you wearin' cologne?"

_Oh my __**goodness,**__ she finally noticed! _He thought, overwrought. "Mm-hm, yep!"

With either one wearing helmets whenever they saw each other, they never gave the idea of what the other smelled like much thought. And Sandy certainly wasn't expecting to be hit with such a pungent, delightful odor from him; she knew he was obviously a man (sort of), and he tended to dress like one most of the time, but for him to go out of his way to _smell_ like one, was interesting to her.

Did it have something to do with the fact that he _knew_ he was going to her home?... _where she didn't need to wear her helmet, and her sense of smell was free to explore?_

She smiled slyly. "Whoa, then ya better be careful there, partner. You don't want a bunch of crazy women chasin' after ya because ya smell so good."

This time, under the bright lights, SpongeBob had no choice but to show her his flushed face. "Ohh, well, I wouldn't say it could ever go _that_ far, heh. It doesn't usually happen to Gary when he wears this cologne."

She stared at him, confused.

He stammered, discerning the way his sentence sounded to her. "N-not t-that it _belongs _to Gary, haha! It's mine, I just let him borrow it sometimes."

"Uh-huh."

"No, _really,_ Sandy, I– what's that sound?"

_**Crackle, crackle…**_

Sandy's eyes traveled down to the branch they were leaning all their weight upon, and it seemed that it had had enough of it.

"AHH!" they panicked as the branch snapped off from the tree, taking them down into a pile of snow. Yet _another_ hole was created, and it was the deepest of them all.

Even after all the merry craziness, the day was still only half over. Neptune only knew what other trouble they were going to get into.


	4. Chapter 4: Dreams & Fires

**Hey! Geez, this took me a long time to update. I know it's not Christmas anymore, but I might as well continue this while it's still winter lol. Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

**Holly Jolly Help**

* * *

The Treehouse, once as dark as an old cave in Jellyfish Fields, was now matching almost perfectly to the vivaciousness of the beautifully decorated Treedome.

With the creative hands and minds of SpongeBob and Sandy put together, the place was becoming like a vivid work of hand-drawn animation (which it technically _was), _but the frosty bitterness that had dominated the air still needed help transforming into an environment that was tolerable enough for both, especially for SpongeBob since he didn't have the advantage of a natural fur coat to help keep him warm. Indeed, rodents like Sandy were lucky this time of year.

The leafy walls were mesmerizingly lit with thousands of white lights, the kitchen log-island was set up with baking sheets and a cutting board, while the counters behind it held a variety of cookie cutters. The refrigerator was decorated in colorful magnets, and in the far-left corner stood the perfect tree that Sandy had cut down from the kelp forest.

Up against the wall, in the middle of the room where the fireplace was, SpongeBob stood on his knees and leaned toward the pile of wood on the inside, vigorously twisting a skinny twig between his hands in an attempt to light a fire, which created a burning sensation on his skin.

He panted, he grunted, he _smoldered _in frustration because he was unable to accomplish this simple task that _every _man should be able to accomplish. It didn't help that he had already made himself look weak and foolish a few other times that day in front of her, but now _this? _Luckily this time though, when he turned around to see if she was observing his failings, she seemed to be preoccupied with carefully unloading the remaining Christmas bulbs and other decorations from a box, while sitting in front of the tree, cross-legged.

"Ugh, ugh, come on, magic hands! I know you can do it!" SpongeBob said, seething and squinting until his achievement was reached; a fire had been started!

He smiled with excited satisfaction. "Woo! Yes!" he exclaimed.

"Did ya get the fire goin'?" asked Sandy, greatly interested as she examined each item with narrowed eyes.

SpongeBob nodded, prouder than he'd been of himself in a long while. "Yep! You betcha. A nice warm fire to keep us from freezing our tails off. Well, _your_ tail, anyway. Bahaha!" he laughed.

Sandy smiled; hearing his little giggles always brightened up her mood, even though it wasn't currently in any need of brightening up. Still, he kept any drop in attitude from attacking her with his childlike cheerfulness. "That's great, SpongeBob!" though she was just as proud of him as he was of himself, she was also rather surprised by the fact that he could even start a fire _at all_; usually, she was the one to do so in many situations where it had been needed. She _was_ more masculine than him in a lot of ways. But he had insisted on doing it until she gave in.

Of course, he couldn't ignite that flame without a single hitch, now could he?

Humming a merry tune, Sandy stood up and brushed her hands together. "This tree's gonna look mighty fine once we're done with— "

"Ahhh," SpongeBob sighed with pleasure at the comforting warmth radiating toward his body… or rather, _from_ his body.

Sandy's eyes were now not only open – they were practically ready to fall right out of her head. "Uh, SpongeBob?"

He looked up at her from across the room, giving her a smile that told of how just how content he was with himself while he sat flat on his square behind. "Oh, hey, Sandy. Don't worry, it'll be _piping hot_ pretty soon," he chuckled.

By "it", she figured he was talking about the _air_. It was ridiculous just how oblivious the guy could be sometimes. "It looks like it's reached that point _already."_

"Why do you say that?" he asked, his shoulders bouncing with his continous chuckling.

He turned his attention close to the direction of what she was pointing at. Something was off here; it was clear from the burning smell that _something_ had been set ablaze, but it was nowhere in the fireplace.

His face was taken over by confusion. "Huh? I don't understand… I thought that I— "

"Started a fire?" she interrupted, then shook her head. "Ya did. Look a little further down."

With apprehension, he followed her suggestion.

"AHHHHHHH!" his eyeballs shot out from their sockets at the sight of his hands that resembled mini bonfires. "FIRE, FIRE! I'M ON FIRE!" he sprang from the floor and ran around in circles, panicking. Now, _this_ was an instance in which it made perfect sense for a fire to exist, seeing as how they were no longer underwater.

"Hang on!" said Sandy, doing something in the kitchen that he couldn't hear because he was too busy making noise with his screaming.

She ran to rescue him as he continued his pattern of running, even though it was only making the pain more intense. "Hold still!" she commanded, her eyes following him.

"How can I hold still when I'm on FIRE?! OH, IT BURNS! IT BURNS, IT BURNS, IT BURNS!"

He finally was forced to obey her when a giant splash of ice-cold water fell over him like a tidal wave at Goo Lagoon. He panted, now dripping wet.

"Jeepers! You were burnin' somethin' fierce. You okay?" she asked, looking at him with caution and concern, holding a now-empty green bucket under her arm.

He flashed her a faint smile, then looked down at his hands that were charred. "Yeah, I'm okay. T-thanks." Those blackened hands then crumbled into piles of dust and flew near his mouth, causing him to cough. "It's a good thing these grow back, dahaha!"

* * *

_An hour later…_

After his little blunder, Sandy had decided that it was a better idea if _she_ dealt with the old fireplace, while he fooled around a bit with the Christmas tree. Yes, it was true that the little yellow guy could be nothing but a walking disaster, but his willingness to be there with her and do what he could to help made her overlook his clumsiness. She was grateful to have his assistance, even if he screwed some things up.

He was klutzy and sometimes arrogant, but he made up for it with all the other likable – dare she even say _lovable _– qualities he possessed.

"Woo-wee!" Sandy wiped a drop of sweat from her brow as she sat in front of the fire that was now burning beautifully, after working to bring it alive for the past hour. "That sure took some doin'; that wood was as stubborn as a bull at a rodeo!" she untied her science apron that she had used to protect her great grandmother's dress from getting stained with soot.

Happy that the room was gradually going to get warmer, Sandy stood and dusted herself off, ready to tackle the final part of getting the place in order. "Okay, SpongeBob, why don't we get started on the tree?"

Her eyes were unprepared for the beauty that met them when she turned around. The tree, covered in layers of fake snow, was gleaming with hundreds of intensely colored lights of dark purple, yellow, red, and green. The fluffy branches were embellished with green and blue bulbs that sparkled with tiny specks of glitter, and gold and red garland had been wrapped effortlessly around every part of it. At the bottom was a navy-blue tree skirt. It was darn near perfect; the only thing missing was the star.

The way she felt looking at the masterpiece must've been the way that SpongeBob felt when they had finished decorating the oak tree. Sandy was blown away by his efforts. "Good Texas tea and cookies, SpongeBob! This looks outstandin'!" her eyes shined against the lights.

"Oh, you mean the _tree_?" he asked, barely able to contain his building excitement for her reaction.

Her head turned behind her to see him standing at the open window with his back turned, and his arms stretched out to catch the snow flurries that held his youthful interest.

A laugh rolled out from her lips, and she turned fully toward him. "Well, _of course,_ I mean the tree, silly. Ya did such a fantastic job. I love it!"

SpongeBob couldn't hold it in anymore; it was just too much of a temptation to explode. "Ooh, I _knew_ you would!" he swiftly turned, biting his lip and clenching his shaky fists. "At first, I was just gonna play around with the bulbs like you told me to, but I _just couldn't stop _looking at that big green tree, and how quickly it needed to be jazzed-up _all _the way! Ooh, I think your nieces and sister are gonna **LOVE IT!**" he jumped after he had finished speaking fifty miles per hour.

She was stunned as to how she didn't hear him running around and throwing things all over the tree. She chuckled, pushing out her hands as a signal for him to relax. "Okay, okay! Slow down there, Mr. Chatterbox. I know they will, and I appreciate ya takin' the time to do it, but I didn't mean for ya to have to go and bust your butt doin' it all by yourself! Why, I was right here the whole time; ya could've asked for my help," she said, softly.

SpongeBob let go of the breath he was holding through the large, rounded shape he was forming with his mouth. "I know, but I also knew you were busy with making the fire and I didn't want to bug you, so _then_ I figured that _that_ way, I could surprise you! Are you surprised?" he asked with a grin that was rubbing off on Sandy.

"Yes, SpongeBob," she shook her head. "I'm surprised. I can't thank ya enough for doin' it, _and_ for all the other things you've helped me with today. I don't think I could've done it all without ya." She really _could _have; she was Sandy Cheeks, the squirrel who "flew alone". But perhaps having him over had more than one meaning for her; she didn't want him _just_ to have his help, but also because she enjoyed his company… _it might've been that she was starting to enjoy it in a way that she hadn't before._

SpongeBob wasn't sure if she was aware of how sweet the look was that she was throwing his way. It brushed by his heart and tickled it until he noticed that it wanted to jump right out of his chest. He smiled shyly, tapping his fingers together and turning back to the window. "Oh, it's no problem, Sandy. I'm always available when you need me." He shrugged slightly, then started twirling his index finger over the delicate, sparkly snowflakes on the windowsill.

"I know. You're a good friend," she said with sincerity, then scanned the room for several seconds looking for something.

The warmth from his smile grew so much that it was spreading to his cheeks, turning them red. However, it wasn't enough to protect the rest of him from getting cold. "W-well, I… heh." He felt lucky to be facing the window right now. "So are you, Sandy."

"I sure _try_ to be. Oh, and where'd ya put the star, SpongeBob?"

"It should be right underneath the tree."

She bent in half, and lo and behold there it was. It was made of fine glass and painted a brilliant shade of gold, with billions of glitter particles. Sandy pulled a chair from the kitchen and stood on it, leaning toward the tree and angling the ornament just right over the very top.

SpongeBob turned to watch her add the finishing touch. "I wanted to save the best part for you to do; I thought you had a better chance of reaching it than I did since you're the taller one."

Sandy placed her hands on her hips and smiled at the star that was right where it should be. "Well, I surely appreciate that thought, SpongeBob. Now it's as glitzy as a bedazzled leather belt!" she said in a bubbly voice.

"It's beautiful, Sandy! Huh, what do you know? N-now you have a tree _within_ a tree! Dahaha! _Brrr…" _his teeth chattered.

Sandy's smile fell from her face when she noticed him shivering like he was out in a blizzard with no clothes. The unfortunate happening from earlier came back to her. "Shoot, SpongeBob! Y'all look colder than a toad stuck in a frozen pond. Do ya wanna hang your clothes over the fire to dry?"

He immediately shook his head as he crossed his arms and placed his hands over his shoulders to try and warm himself up, but it was no use with that bone-chilling breeze coming in from behind him. "O-oh, n-no n-n-need for t-that, Sandy, really," he showed a brief smile and turned back towards the window. "T-they're a-actually a-almost dry already." He couldn't stand around in his underwear, even though she had seen him with little to no clothing _plenty_ of times before.

There was also the possibility that she could've let him borrow one of her outfits, but then he would've looked _even more_ ridiculous by dressing up like a girl. Either way, it wouldn't have been a good situation to deal with, so he figured it was best to just suffer through the consequences of his carelessness and conceited attitude from trying to start that fire by himself.

SpongeBob furrowed his brows as he looked out the window. _Maybe if you would've just __**held still**__ like Sandy said, you wouldn't have gotten all soaked; I mean, why didn't you?! It wasn't as if your whole __**body**__ needed to be put out! Just your hands. Oh, but then again, it was burning real bad… you couldn't have held still, even if you wanted to. Oh, barnacles! Why are you having this conversation with yourself? Sandy must be really annoyed with you—_

His thoughts came to a stop when his shoulders and back were covered with a soft yet heavy material, and the cold disappeared instantly. He looked down with bemused eyes at the gray blanket that had been draped over him, lifting his arms and staring at them.

"There ya go, that ought to warm ya up," said Sandy, showing a small smile as he turned to face her.

He looked up at her, his mouth formed into an 'O' shape. "Gee, thanks, Sandy. It _does_ seem to be helping— " he froze when she took hold of his hand that was keeping the blanket closed, making his pulse pound inside his throat. And it only pounded harder when she pulled out a pair of scissors from behind her. "W-w-what are you doing?" maybe she _was_ annoyed about the fire incident after all… a bit _too_ annoyed, it seemed.

_**Snip**_ went the scissors to the _Fancy Pants Emporium _tag that hung from his sleeve. "Just doin' your 'homemade' getup a favor," she held up it up and smiled. "Dang thing's been buggin' me all day."

Overwhelmed with relief _and_ more embarrassment, SpongeBob chuckled. "Heh, heh, heh! Y-You and me both." He gulped from the nerves that shook him.

"Let's see what's on TV for a while before we get to bakin'," she said, pulling the green shade over the window to finally block out the cold.

* * *

_On the bench…_

Neither one had said much in the past twenty or so minutes that they had been sitting across from each other. What were they make of this mysterious magic that was flowing through the air like a soft breeze and creating a strange balance of uneasiness and chemistry? Sandy was a scientist, so she knew all about chemistry. But she hadn't spent much time studying the kind of chemical reactions that occurred between two people, such as what was happening now, and had been happening _all day._

"Boy, I don't get what the deal is with all these hundreds of soap commercials I've been passin'; they're on every dang channel!" she said, resting her cheek against her left fist that was propped up on the arm of the bench while changing the channels with her other hand.

"Perhaps it's their way of encouraging people to tune into the _**soap **_operas, bahahaha!" SpongeBob laughed, throwing his head back.

His humor, though oftentimes cheesy, always amused her. She lifted her head from her fist, shaking it. "Makes pretty good sense, actually. I heard soap operas are dyin' faster than a mouse crossin' a highway at night. They'd most likely do anything to get more viewers.

"Mm, well, I know that Patrick never misses a single show. He watches it _every day! _He never did find out who Carol's real father was, though," he shook his head. "_Tsk-tsk, _such a shame."

Making small talk felt like the most comfortable way for them to get through some of the tension, but it wasn't likely to cut through it for the rest of the day that was slowly turning to a cozy evening; at one point or another, things were bound to get tricky.

Sandy's finger hit the plus sign on the channel button once more, landing on the only good station out of dozens. "And now, for the delight of the evening," said the announcer. "Join two best friends on their journey of discovering their true feelings for one another in, _'Fintastic Holiday', _a story about the Christmas spirit, the joy of giving, and the most important and heartfelt thing of all, _love."_

They stared at the acorn-shaped television as if it was smoking. It seemed things were about to take a different turn. But it wasn't anything they couldn't deal with, right?

The trailer for the film ended with a man-fish hugging the love of his life under a tall Christmas tree, which looked a lot like the tree that was sitting _directly _behind SpongeBob and Sandy.

Their eyes shifted toward each other, wondering if the other was thinking the same things. "Haha," he awkwardly chuckled. "Looks like a really nice movie, right?"

Sandy sat up straighter, trying to relieve her anxiousness. But it still threatened to come out in her voice. "Ha, right! Why, it looks just fine and dandy. I can't wait to watch it."

"Oh, yeah, same here. You know me, I'm a _sucker _for a good romance," he said, swinging his fist under the blanket with forced confidence.

His statement was true; he did enjoy romantic movies, especially those with comedy added in. And she liked to watch one from time to time, too. But with every minute that passed, it was starting to feel like they were _in _a romcom themselves, with his frequent jokes, the occasional eye-locking, the jellyfish buzzing in his stomach, and the butterflies flapping in hers – it was all _a_ _bit _too familiar to them, but there were big differences between what was happening between _them, _and what happened in a fictional movie.

Their actions and words weren't scripted, and their feelings weren't contrived. Everything that was going on was completely genuine, coming from their hearts.

Something told them it was going to be a_ long _rest of the day.

_Two and a half hours later…_

After having to shush SpongeBob more than ten times throughout the course of the woman and man rescuing stray snails from cold streets, delivering presents to ill children at a hospital, spending time with long-lost family members, and falling in love while doing so, Sandy was glad that he had finally quieted down during the final few minutes of the movie. She didn't want to miss out on the romantic scene that had been advertised in the trailer, and she was not disappointed when said scene began to play through.

"Oh, Ronny!" said the female fish with bright-blue skin and black hair, clasping her fins together and placing them against her cheek, while standing under the Christmas tree with their family and friends. "This has been the most wonderful Christmas ever! We helped the town, everyone's all here together and happy, and best of all— "

The male fish with dark-brown hair and a gleam in his eyes turned toward her, squeezing her shoulder. "I love you, Marie."

Marie turned to him, her eyes glistening with surprise and affection. "Ronny… do you _really _mean that?"

"Yes, Marie, I do. You're the love of my life and my best friend; it's taken me years to understand it, but now that I do…" he held her arms, looking into her eyes. "I need you to know it." He pulled her close and kissed her with fervor, while sentimental background music intensified the scene, and the crowd around them cheered.

Sandy smiled, placing her hand on her chest. "Aw, now that's a nice endin', huh, SpongeBob?"

Not one word peeped from him, which was strange considering that he had spoken when he wasn't supposed to. But now that he had been _asked_ to, he kept his piehole shut?

"SpongeBob?" she looked at him just as he fell onto her lap, snoring loudly. It was assumable that he had fallen asleep within the last few minutes.

"_Oh," _she sighed and looked back at the television. Normally, SpongeBob could stay up all day and night watching these types of movies, but he was simply too exhausted from their work to look at that screen any longer.

The two fishes pulled from their kiss and were hugging under the enchanting Christmas lights. The camera had a filter over it that made the scene appear frosty for added effect.

"Merry Christmas, Ronny."

"Merry Christmas, Marie," he smiled at her.

The end credits rolled by, leaving Sandy with a "business as usual" expression as she put her attention back on the sleeping sponge in her lap. "Okay, SpongeBob. Nap time's over. It's time to get up and help me make them cookies," she rocked him gently.

He responded with a snort, shifting from his side to his back. His face was now pointed up at her, allowing her to see how deep he was in his slumber.

She sighed again, flustered. "Come on, SquarePants! I thought ya wanted to be my bakin' assistant?"

"Eh! Ehhh… mm, cookies," he mumbled. "Y-yes, Grandma, we'd love some more, thank you."

_Wha—Grandma?! Just 'cause I'm wearin' an old dress, don't mean I'm a granny! _She stared down at him, defeatedly. _What am I gonna do with you?_

He wiggled, itching the side of his nose like he was a newborn infant. His cheeks had turned a rosy pink from the cold weather, and the way the blanket was wrapped around his tiny frame made him look like the definition of "adorable" itself.

A lopsided smile danced across Sandy's features, and the swarm of butterflies in her stomach grew larger. _Why, you're just a silly slip of a critter, ain't ya… little square dude?_

She believed in him as man, but the way he looked right then reminded her again of just how childlike he really was. He was as cute as a homemade button, but also handsome in his own way. Even with that being said, there wasn't a good enough reason for her to be looking at him for so long… _was there?_

_Poor thing must be awful tired after all that work. I guess it wouldn't hurt to let him sleep just a little._

"Hmm…" he hummed, followed by a deep yawn. Stretching his limbs, his eyelids began to open. Slowly, they blinked; a groggy smile crossed his lips once the image of what he assumed to be Sandy's fetching face filled his blurry vision. He picked up on the bright yellowish halo of light surrounding her head.

Just waking from his restfulness, the first thing that swirled in his mind, was what a lucky sponge he was to have a friend as special as her.

He draped his arm over his forehead, sighing like he was still in a peaceful dream world. "Mm, hi, _pretty squirrel-lady." _Did he mean to say that out loud, or was he having another dream?

Sandy's head jerked back at his remark. _What did he just say?_

_Ah_,_ this is the best nap ever! Sandy's lap is so warm and toasty— wait a minute… Sandy's… lap? Am I… in Sandy's—_

He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles so that he could see more clearly, and his lids lifted all the way open. The two were in a competition of who could stare with shock the longest.

"Oh, my!" he shot up, scooting away from her. "O-oh, oh… oh, my…" he shook his head, struggling to spit out the words that were clogging up his brain. "Sandy, I'm sorry! I-I— a-and in your lap— I-I wasn't— "

"It's okay, SpongeBob!" she was worried he might start hyperventilating, such as he sometimes did when he didn't know how to handle a scary situation. This situation _was_ scary, but just not in a way he had experienced before.

"I wasn't looking at anything!" he said, after shakily biting his lip.

"Well, neither was I!" she said, throwing her hands up in defense.

"I didn't say you were pretty!"

"A-and **I **wasn't thinkin' about how cute you looked while you were nappin'!"

"Well, _**I **_wasn't having a dream about you feeding me cookies and reading me a story at my grandma's house, while I laid snuggled up in your lap by the fire!"

"Huh?!"

"N-NOTHING!"

Their eyes remained saucer-like. And drops of sweat flew off SpongeBob like he was a sprinkler system with low water pressure.

"I, uh— "

"Ya see— "

"Oh, barnacles!"

"Ugh, never mind!"

They turned their backs; SpongeBob hugging his knees to his chest, while Sandy crossed her arms over hers as if to protect herself from any more slip-ups from either of them.

Since when, in their twenty years of friendship, did things become such an emotional rollercoaster of romantic energy and awkward, jumbled interactions? It was making them dizzy.

Gradual eye contact was made, both turning around to see what the other might be thinking. SpongeBob unbent his legs, speaking first.

"Y-You wanna— "

"Get started on the cookies?" she asked, jumping from her seat. "Why, sure 'nuff."

He did the same, causing the blanket to fall off him. "Indeed, I think that would be _splen— "_

"…_did_. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will be back on Plankton, Krabs and the others, yay! I hope you had a good Christmas and a happy New Year. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5: Bring on the Chaos!

**Okay, **_**finally**_**, chapter five! This one was SUPER tough for me to write for some reason. I'm not sure if you guys will like it all that much; it's extremely chaotic (hence the title) and is just loaded with nonsense, but I needed to post it anyway in order to continue the story, haha. Thanks for reading, favoriting, following and reviewing! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Holly Jolly Help**

The crisp, blue color of the sky was still bright, with just a short amount of time left until it would fade into a beautiful, deep blueish-black. The water was cold enough to keep Krabby Patties frozen, and many were out enjoying it while staying bundled up. The lovely atmosphere of Christmas Eve was special to most folks, and they wanted to spend every minute they could basking in its heartwarming joy.

Other people, however, -a little green schemer and a greedy, red crustacean, to be precise- had chosen to take advantage of the day in a much different way. A way that consisted of competitiveness and big egos going at each other, instead of appreciating that simple, humble sense of holiday cheer.

After all, if they _had_ decided to treat this day like most other people in town did, they would've deemed themselves crazy. It was in Sheldon J. Plankton and Eugene Krabs' nature to show off in front of one another and prove who could do better. That was their priority this time around.

And, of course, what is a little competition without a bet?

Finally coming to the pride-destroying conclusion that Mr. Krabs really did _not_ have a million dollars, the two settled on their usual agreement when it came to betting: the loser would pay one dollar. The last time they had made such a bet, was the time they disguised themselves as each other, and Mr. Krabs wanted to prove to the pipsqueak that he could, in fact, do a better job of stealing the Krabby Patty formula.

But at least this time, the Chum Bucket would be spared. As far as either of them knew, anyway.

After arguing for ten minutes straight inside of the women's boutique, the two enemies left – or rather, were _asked _to leave because they were disturbing the other customers – and were now getting ready for the 'race' that was soon to take place.

Although this wasn't the typical race that athletes would participate in, Plankton and Mr. Krabs could certainly agree that it was still of high importance to make the proper preparations to ensure that things would go smoothly.

Those preparations mainly involved the two stretching in the most uncomfortable and absurd ways, right in the middle of the mall walkway for every set of eyes to see.

Hundreds of fishes that were present in the building were forced to witness the hilarious and atrocious moves that were meant to prep the muscles for action. While some families passed by quickly and mothers covered the eyes of their children, some fishes kept their full attention on what was happening. They were immediately drawn to the sight to either laugh, take pictures or simply just watch two older men make themselves look ridiculous.

"Eh, eh, eh…" Plankton grunted lowly as he lay on his back on the tile floor, sitting up every second to stretch his arms as far out as he could.

Mr. Krabs, on the other hand, lay propped up on his right side; straining hard to lift his left leg and stretch out his arm toward the high ceiling. "One… two… three. One… two… three…" he muttered, his face dripping with sweat. "One… two— YOOOWWWW!" he screeched as a loud crack popped somewhere on his lower side. He placed a claw on his hip and rubbed it, feeling intense pain. "Argh. This is what I get for skippin' the exercise for so many years…"

Plankton sat up, watching his enemy moan in pain, which gave _him _great pleasure. "Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh, heh! Got a little boo-boo already, Krabs? You'll _never _find a gift at this rate. OWWWW!" after he laid back down and stretched his legs over his head to try a new position, it seemed that his lower back couldn't handle that kind of pressure either. The cracking sound was just as loud -if not louder- than the one that came from Krabs's hip.

The two men looked around them, just finally noticing the crowd of people that had been there the whole time. At first, their laughter was barely audible. But now, it was noisy enough to make them feel like it was playing through headphones that needed to have the volume turned down fifty notches. They then glanced at each other, both embarrassed.

"Eh, perhaps doing this in the men's room would've been a better idea," said Plankton in a sheepish voice.

"You're tellin' me. I ain't been this mortified since me mother caught me lookin' at a magazine full of dollar bills dressed in skimpy bikinis," Mr. Krabs replied.

Squidward stood up against a wall, watching the scene unfold as he kept his arms crossed over his chest and a look of disgust on his face. "And just when I thought that SpongeBob and Patrick were the absolute peaks of buffoonery," he said under his breath.

In front of Squidward was a bench that the Christmas tree was leaning against. Once he played his part in this whole juvenile game, he had every intention of sitting down on that bench and relaxing after he had been ordered around by his boss to drag that heavy, green thing all over the place.

It was times like these that he was reminded, once again, that he really_ should have _gone to college.

"Alright," he sighed annoyedly, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat. "Any time you two are ready to make even **bigger** fools of yourselves, just let me know."

"Oh, I'm_ ready_, Mr. Squidward," said Mr. Krabs, ignoring the derogatory nature of his employee's remark. He rolled onto one knee, crouching in position and glaring at Plankton, who mimicked his actions.

"Well, I was _born _ready – ready to take you _down, _Eugene! Heh, heh, heh!" Plankton cackled, smiling evilly.

Mr. Krabs smirked at him, feeling the utmost satisfaction. That little twerp always seemed to think more of himself than he could ever be worth. "Ha! You're wrong about that. But ye certainly were born to do _somethin'_ – born to be flushed down the toilet! Arg arg arg arg arg!"

"Hey! It isn't _my _fault I always end up in someone's mouth! And I'm always stuck taking the _long _way out!"

A male fish wearing a blue and green knitted hat and scarf looked upon them with confusion, leaning into his friend and speaking quietly. "Do you know what those two dudes are talking about?"

"No, but something about what the little green guy said makes me not _wanna _know," the brown fish said, shuddering.

"Like, what is this race for, anyway?" asked a teenage girl, looking down at her polished fins and speaking in a bored tone.

Mr. Krabs glanced at the young lady, then put his attention back on Plankton, glaring more intensely than before. "It's a race to see who's the better man, that's what it is," he said, his tone of voice determined.

"Well, if that's the case, neither of you are likely to win. Heh, heh, heh, heh!" Squidward laughed, his nose inflating and deflating. It was just like the octopus to not be supportive. And not just at times like these, but at any time at all.

Plankton rolled his eye, giving the laughing cephalopod an unamused look. "Say whatever you want about this, big-nose."

"Heh, heh— hey!"

"But whoever gets the best gift -which **will** be me- shall be the 'better man', heh, heh. I'm looking forward to rubbing it in your crusty face when Karen cries joyful tears that'll short out her wires!"

"Heh! I'm sure your wife will cry. But they ain't gonna be tears of joy. They'll be tears of sadness from bein' reminded that she's married to a loser jellybean, arg arg arg arg arg arg arg!"

Krabs' insulting words only managed to fuel that fiery nature inside of Plankton. He sat there, attempting to come up with something clever enough to make that old crab feel as worthless as he did after so many years of failing. But all he could do at that moment was release a low, guttural growl that showed how much he despised him.

Mr. Krabs, keeping his head straight but glancing at Plankton with his dark eyes, could see the rage inside that big, red eyeball of his. It caught him off-guard just slightly; it wasn't as if this was a competition to see who could blow each other up first, but from the look on Plankton's face, he seemed he was treating it that way.

"Well, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can go home and take a nap," said Squidward, smiling at the thought of laying on his comfortable couch, as he pulled out his clarinet that he just happened to randomly have on hand.

"And the sooner this is over, the sooner I can sneak off to the Krusty Krab and get my hands on that formula— I-I mean… heh…" Plankton looked up to see a death glare being given from the owner of said restaurant and secret recipe. "N-never mind, Eugene honey. Just keep your mind on the race."

"I do have me mind on the race. Perhaps I can find a good flyswatter while lookin' for Mrs. Puff's gift," Krabs sneered, causing his nemesis to jump a little from fright.

When hatred, anger, and fear traveled all over the place like a reckless driver in a boat, it usually meant that things were either going to turn out very successful for one of them, or things were going to fall apart… for _both _of them.

While Krabs and Plankton shot each other one last glance of fury and went on to stare straight ahead, already making plans on which mall shops to rummage through in search of the gifts, Mrs. Puff and Karen made their way along a line of stores, both sharing some of the most embarrassing and dumbest things their men had done. They laughed like the true Gal Pals that they were.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! That's the stupidest thing I've heard in a long time. But you know what's stupider? The time Plankton baked a big batch of chum and tried to pass them off to people as Christmas cookies! Ha, ha, ha!" Karen shook with merry laughter.

"Ha, ha! Oh, no, Karen. There was this one time where Eugene— "

The women came to a sudden stop, both staring in utter disbelief upon discovering the two men they were making fun of from a distance. "What on Earth could they possibly be up to now, Karen?" asked Mrs. Puff, placing her fins on her hips and watching with an irritated expression.

"Hm, looks to me like they've taken their little argument over who will get the better gift to a whole other level," said Karen, shaking her head. She knew that she should expect nothing less to happen between the two rivals. "And I'll bet you they've even made their usual wager."

"Ugh! You know, I love Eugene dearly, but it still irks me how unbelievably childish he can be."

"I know what you mean, Puff. It's as if the clock on Plankton's life is ticking backward and is slowly bringing him back to the stage of infancy. I honestly think it's ridiculous!"

"Oh, me too, Karen. Me too."

Seconds after watching Squidward stand in place next to Krabs and Plankton, Karen and Puff looked at each other and began giggling like teenage girls and sneaked toward the event. Even though they knew this was beyond ludicrous, they couldn't help but also find it to be more entertaining and comical than the bad acting of people on toothpaste commercials. They also knew, deep down, that they were _just_ as childish as the men.

"On your marks…" said Squidward, his voice dragging with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

"Oh, I know this is foolish, but I somehow can't resist watching those two go at it like this," said Mrs. Puff as she stood behind a tall, white column next to Karen.

"I agree, Puff. Wait till Sandy hears about all this," said Karen, her voice filling with amusement.

Suddenly, the mentioning of the squirrelly scientist struck something inside the ladies.

"Speaking of Sandy, what has she been doing the entire day? She usually calls me to chat around this time," Mrs. Puff stared at the ground, worriedly.

"I think she mentioned something last week about spending the day decorating her Treedome with the yellow sponge so that it would look nice for her sister and three nieces coming to visit."

"Get set…" Squidward said, placing his clarinet near his lips.

"Oh, the _poor_ _girl_…" Mrs. Puff shut her eyes at the thought of Sandy being around that spongy menace.

"Prepare to eat my microscopic dust, Krabs!" Plankton spat with excited smugness.

"I'd tell ya to eat my Krabby Patties, but that ain't never gonna actually happen, _now_ _is_ _it?_" Mr. Krabs sent a smirk in Plankton's direction that made him want to bash his own head in.

The offensive sound of Squidward's instrument blew through the water, signaling for the race to begin. The crowd of fish-folks cheered, despite laughing at them only minutes before.

Mr. Krabs and Plankton took off, leaving a cloud of white particles behind them. Meanwhile, Squidward was glad his job as the starter was over. He sat down gently on the bench next to the Christmas tree, sighing happily and crossing two of his four legs over each other. "Ah, now that **that's** out of the way, I believe it's time for a little music. Perhaps it could even soothe the souls of these tired shoppers." He smiled, inhaling and blowing into the clarinet to create the same awful sound.

Every fish stopped what they were doing to stare at him, covering their ears by either using their fins or placing their earmuffs back on their heads.

"Oh, barnacles! This guy?! Jeez, we already hear enough of him playing that thing at the Krusty Krab," a male fish whined.

His wife nodded in agreement, looking at Squidward with repugnance. "I think we've gotten enough presents now, hon. Let's get out of here," she said before she and her husband walked off.

Unfortunately for the happy cephalopod, his enjoyment had to end at some point. And that point came when the crowd of bratty fish, who had previously chased the Santa-fish that eventually got away from them, came in Squidward's direction. Looking at him, they could tell he was a peaceful guy who just wanted to mind his own business and was having a decent afternoon.

But his playing was terrible, so they couldn't allow that to go on.

"Hey, look at that bozo over there!" yelled the orange fish, pointing at Squidward and grinning.

The sound of a young man's voice from across the way made Squidward stop playing instantly. He looked up, displaying a scowl. "What? What do you want?! I'm trying to soothe people's souls here!"

"And we thought _Santa_ was a loser!" remarked a dark, purple fish.

"Let's get him!" said a pink female fish, pounding one fin into the other as she and the others ran towards him, yelling insults.

The sudden fear that overtook Squidward made his whole life flash before his eyes. And he thought that _SpongeBob_ chasing after him was scary.

"AHHHHH!" he screamed. It was as if someone had pressed an 'eject' button on the bench because he flew off the seat like a blasting rocket as the children came straight at him.

_Meanwhile… _

Mr. Krabs, who ran up to another women's boutique and held the door open, heard the horrific cry of his employee and turned around to peek at the bench. Instead of being concerned for Squidward's well-being (like a normal person would), he was more worried about the Christmas tree.

As he watched Squidward run around in circles trying to get away from the kids, Mr. Krabs clenched his claw, shouting angrily. "Squidward! Quit messin' around an keep an eye on that tree! If somebody steals it, I'm gonna— "

"Thanks for holding the door, Eugene! Heh, heh, heh, heh!"

Mr. Krabs' attention was then directed at Plankton, who ran past him through the open door. Furiousness quickly building inside of him, Krabs growled; watching his nemesis get away.

"Hey, get back here! GAH!" he rushed inside, unaware of the woman who was about to enter behind him. He slammed the door, hitting her in the face and knocking her over.

Scuttling around the place, he looked in all directions until he came face-to-face with his teenage daughter and her two fish friends; one bright blue in color, and the other coral.

Pearl wasted no time in looking at him with revulsion and sticking her tongue out. "Ew! Daddy, what are _you_ doing here? This is a store for girls!"

"Oh, hi there, sweet pea! Heh, heh. I'm actually busy lookin' for— "

Mr. Krabs was interrupted by Plankton's giggling that was coming from a place that he couldn't see.

"You were supposed to be searchin' the stores on the other side, ya one-eyed barnacle brain!" he bellowed, shaking his claw.

"Daddy, who are you talking to?" Pearl asked.

Mr. Krabs forced a laugh, knowing he didn't have time to deal with the questions of a teenager. "Ah, ha, ha! Oh, I was just talkin' to me arch enemy while we get ready to ransack the stores in search of the perfect gifts," he stated as if this was something that would happen on an everyday basis.

Pearl knew that her father was strange in many ways, but this was definitely the weirdest thing yet in her eyes. And the fact that he was in a women's store only creeped her out even more. She glanced at her friends, all three sharing the same look of confusion.

"Okay, well, um, anyway," said Pearl, not paying attention to how her father was trying desperately to see the display of feminine things behind her. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually glad you're here. I need money for shoe— AHHH!"

"Can't talk now, Pearly! It's time to start causin' some mayhem!" he picked her up in his claws like she weighed nothing and tossed her in another direction, sending her crashing into a rack of clothing. Her friends ran after her, relieved to get away from the insane crab.

On the outside of the store stood Karen and Mrs. Puff, peering in through the window. Together, they witnessed Mr. Krabs go through a rack of blouses and throw them one by one behind him, which created a mountain of expensive fabric on top of Plankton (who appeared out of nowhere). Soon, he popped up out of the pile, shaking his fist and cursing at Krabs, who then waved him off.

"Goodness! Those two really seem to be taking this whole thing seriously," Mrs. Puff said with concern.

"I know! But it is rather hilarious, isn't it?" asked Karen, looking at the pufferfish beside her.

Mrs. Puff had to admit that her Gal Pal was right; seeing them rip the store apart and scream at each other was becoming the highlight of her day. "Hm, hm," she quietly laughed. "It certainly is. And this does remind me again of how we need to finish our shopping. We should really get on with doing that, Karen."

"Oh, yeah! You're right, Puff."

At a speed that was almost impossible to see, Mr. Krabs and Plankton busted out of the store, obviously not finding what they needed. Mrs. Puff stood with her mouth agape, and Karen wore a digital face of surprise as the men zig-zagged across each shop. High-pitched shrieking from the women inside the places could be heard, meaning that major damage was being caused by their rummaging.

The two women had a feeling they should've been worried about all the chaos. But instead, watching the bitter enemies compete was inspiring their inner drive to find presents that would blow said enemies away.

"Gosh, you know," Karen chuckled. "I'm starting to _really_ look forward to how much Sheldon will love his gift."

Mrs. Puff faced her; her eyes slowly turning from mild happiness to fierceness. "And **I'm** looking forward to how Eugene will most likely propose to me after he tells me how much he loves **his** gift."

Karen could hear the snarky attitude building in her voice, and it was doing a great job of burning her mechanical insides. "Oh, _yeah_? Well, let me tell you something, sister," she leaned toward her, poking her shoulder with her finger. "A proposal is one thing, but it's nothing special compared to the romantic getaway Sheldon's going to take me on once his little, evil heart **bursts** with pleasure when he receives his gift!"

The insanity of Krabs and Plankton running around, people screaming, and Squidward still being chased by that group of kids all faded into the background for the computer and boating teacher. Karen even saw this as an opportunity to compete against her for the angriest facial expression. The sharpest glare came onto her screen; her furrowed eyebrows, eyes and quivering mouth colored Crimson red.

"Oh, that's it! I don't care how preposterous this whole thing is. I'm getting the better gift and you're gonna **like** **it**!" Mrs. Puff sped off into the men's sporting store across from her and left Karen in her dust.

"Oh, bring it on! You sassy, inflatable balloon woman!" Karen spat, rolling into a store that was next to the one Mrs. Puff had entered into.

Naturally, in this underwater world of craziness, the tune of _Sponge Monger _began to play through the PA system, causing the shoppers to stop and listen. They all looked at each other confusingly until they turned their eyes to the sight of an octopus running away from children, and two men and two women running back and forth between stores; surprisingly, the men didn't even notice the women were there. Then again, they were too busy focusing on acting like school children.

And, of course, since the Christmas tree had been left unattended, an unlikely thief noticed it; her old eyes lighting up.

"Oh, would ya look at that!" an elderly woman exclaimed. "Now my son-in-law doesn't have to visit the kelp forest and break his back trying to cut one down."

Using her electric shopping cart to reach it, she stretched out her arms and picked up the heavy tree, placing it into the basket. The fact that an old woman had more strength than Squidward was laughable and made no sense, but it fit right in with everything else that was occurring.

The woman rode off, without anyone noticing – despite the huge tree sitting in her basket.

* * *

_~French Narrator~_

"Five minutes later."

"Get out of here!" a security guard yelled, using his foot to kick one rear end, and the flick of his finger to get rid of the other tiny troublemaker.

Mr. Krabs and Plankton came flying out of the main exit of the mall, landing face-down on the asphalt.

"Neither of you are allowed in here for **at** **least** the next six months. Oh, by the way, crabby," the man in the uniform said, looking at Mr. Krabs. "You're lucky that lady isn't pressing charges against you for nearly breaking her face with a door!" he looked at them repulsively and marched back inside.

Because the two had caused such a ruckus in every place they rummaged through, they were unable to find those gifts. Now, with the sun slowly starting to fade, they realized how little time they had left, and how much time they had also wasted.

They both groaned, sitting up and rubbing their faces.

"Neptune's mollusk! That was a complete and utter failure," Mr. Krabs sighed sadly, shaking his head and looking down at the ground in shame.

"I know. And to top it all off, my face hurts," Plankton said, touching his bruised eyelid.

Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the mall, Karen and Mrs. Puff were sent out of the exit the same way as Plankton and Krabs. Karen's body made a terrible buzzing sound as she hit the ground, and Mrs. Puff inflated into a large ball seconds after she landed.

"Good riddance. I swear people get more and more savage every year that this time rolls around," said a female security guard, shaking her head and glaring at the women before going back inside.

"Oh, great Neptune! I think I broke one of my wheels," Karen moaned, sitting up and lifting her bottom half to examine it.

"And I haven't been this swollen since SpongeBob crashed into that brick wall last month… _again_," Mrs. Puff sighed heavily as she slowly began to deflate.

Both staring into the distance and then at each other, they smiled guiltily and joined hands.

"Oh, Karen. I'm sorry I let this foolish thing get the best of me," Mrs. Puff spoke softly.

"I'm sorry too, Puff. And I suppose we deserve getting kicked out of that place…" Karen shook her head. "But we didn't even succeed in buying those gifts for our men. And it looks like we're running out of time," she looked out at the horizon. "How are we supposed to get them now?"

Still holding Karen's cold, metal hand in her soft fin, Mrs. Puff stood; helping her Gal Pal up off the harsh floor. "Not to worry, Karen. I think I know of a good place that's right near my house we can shop at. It's much better than anything we could've found here anyway." She smiled, beginning to stroll away. "They've got the **manliest**, muskiest colognes there," she giggled upon remembering how delightful her significant other always smelled when he wore that distinct scent.

Though the thought of Plankton smelling like something other than rotting chum seemed like it would be a relief to her senses, Karen knew he would be too prideful and stubborn to want to mask it.

"Eh, that sounds nice and all, but I doubt Sheldon would wear it. They do sell other items at that fancy store, don't they?" Karen asked in a somewhat skeptical voice.

"Oh, yes, they do. Just you wait and see," Mrs. Puff reassured her by patting her on the shoulder.

Unlike their female sweethearts, who had seen the light and quickly realized the error of their immature ways, Krabs and Plankton weren't ready to give up their battle just yet. Well, _Plankton_ wasn't, at least. But like always, it wouldn't take much for Krabs to agree to hang on to their games.

"So, you're sayin' that the bet is **still** on, but you're also seriously suggestin' we _make_ them gifts instead?" Mr. Krabs raised an eyebrow, looking at Plankton with doubt. "Ehh, as much as I would love not spendin' any money, I ain't sure how much I trust your little plan will work."

"_Of_ _course_, it will work!" Plankton exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "It's not like it's a hairbrained scheme to steal a certain formula, heh, heh," he chuckled. "Which is definitely _not_ still in the works as I speak."

Mr. Krabs peered at him with suspicion. "Besides the gift, it's too bad I wasn't able to buy that flyswatter either."

Plankton gulped loudly, smiling sheepishly. "Anyway, women love homemade gifts! It'll be easier than it was for us to ransack the mall," he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. Other than me secret formula, I ain't very good at makin' things. And neither are you."

Plankton's eye shot open, looking at him with shock. "What?! Look who you're talkin' to, Krabs. This evil genius has invented more scientific gadgets than you could count. Not to mention I built the Chum Bucket with my own two hands," he grinned smugly.

"That explains why it's always fallin' apart."

Growling under his breath and steaming, Plankton stomped his little feet into the ground. "Oh, whatever! I'm done with this conversation. Right now, I need to focus on making Karen's gift so that I can win the bet!" he began walking away, which enraged his nemesis.

"Who says you're winnin' the bet?!" Mr. Krabs stood up. "What are you plannin' on makin' with them grubby hands of yours, anyway?" he demanded, causing Plankton to turn around.

"Ha! Like I'd tell you a **thing** about what I'm making. But I _will_ tell you this: it's gonna be a heck of a lot better than whatever it is that _you'll_ be making!"

"Oh, yeah?! Well, we'll just see about that!"

"Yes, we will. Penny-pincher!"

"Creepy, crawly bacteria!"

"Crusty bottom feeder!"

"Dirty, lowdown, soul-suckin' vermin!"

"Big, red…" Plankton's mind suddenly felt as empty as his restaurant. "Uhh… I'll call you later on when I think of a way to finish that offensive remark."

"Much appreciated!"

"No problem!"

They smiled momentarily like they hadn't been jumping down each other's throats. Snapping out of it, they snarled one last time before walking off to their boats.

Just when it seemed like the madness was finally over with, out came Squidward from the main exit; still being chased around by the relentless children.

"AHH! AHHH! Get away, you little **animals**! I hope Santa leaves you nothing but lumps of coal in your stockings! AHH!" Squidward ran with his tentacles out in front of him, just as the children began hurling spitballs at him.

Oh, what a _**wonderful**_ time of year this was.


	6. Chapter 6: Cookies & Silly Traditions

**Sheesh, this is a ****REALLY**** long chapter, guys. I tried to shave off as much as I could but there's still so much. I hope you enjoy it anyway. :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters; all rights go to Nickelodeon, Stephen Hillenburg, and Viacom. I also do not own the classic Christmas song that I am (sort of) parodying.**

* * *

**Holly Jolly Help**

"Let's see now…" Sandy, now wearing her baking apron, licked her finger and turned the page of the giant _Texas Treats _recipe book, landing on 'Mouthwatering Holiday Gingerbread Men'_. _"Got lots of things to gather up for these here cookies."

SpongeBob stood by her as her helpful assistant. "Well, then, I'll get to gathering!' he said, smiling with cheer. "What shall I deliver to thee first, boss lady?" he held his hand against his forehead in salute, which made her want to chuckle.

Was it possible for him to become _even more_ winsome than he already was? If that were the case, she might have no choice but to crack and squeeze him in a bone-crushing hug just to teach him a lesson for driving her crazy with his endearing ways; it would be meant to _hurt_ him, not **love** him, of course.

"Hmm, let me have another look-see," she said, peering down at the first item on the list. "looks like I'll need one and a half sticks of butter."

"Butter, gotcha!" he ran to the refrigerator, opening its door and letting the cold out. He poked his head inside, searching until he came upon the correct compartment to his right. "I got it, Sandy! Oh, I mean _boss lady, _tee-hee," he giggled.

She smiled broadly at him. "Good job, lab partner! I-I mean," she shook her head. "SpongeBob." She was so used to having him assist her with science experiments that it came naturally to her to address him by that "proper title" (after he had bugged her about it many times before).

"So, what next?" he asked.

"Mmm…" she peeked at the text again. "Next thing is molasses."

"Oh! You mean that sticky brown stuff, huh? Okay. Where can I find it in here?"

"It should be on the bottom shelf, all the way to the left."

He shoved his head in further, finding a clear bottle with the gooey substance contained within it. "Got it!" he said, turning back and holding it up high.

"Very good! Now, it's time for an egg."

"Got that, too!"

"Great! Now, some_ sweet _brown sugar."

"Check!" he said after digging through the contents of the pantry.

"Alrighty! And _now…_" she skimmed her finger across the page. "We _**need…**_"

"Many minutes of speedy searching later…" said the French narrator.

SpongeBob had just finished darting back and forth between all areas in the open kitchen, wherever the contents that they needed were located. He stood breathless, his arms filled to their maximum capacity with thirteen baking ingredients, and some bowls and wooden spoons. "Got _everything_ now, boss lady," he said in a muffled and pained voice.

Sandy had walked away from the book and was busy futzing with the temperature on the oven. "Fantastic! Now, just _hold on _a second and I'll be right there to— "

_**CRASH! PING, PING!**_

Sandy looked up at him after the ear-shattering noise. He stood there in stiff embarrassment, with his arms broken off, and everything that was in them, moments before, was now all over the floor.

He offered her a diffident grin. "Heh, heh… well, I _had_ everything. But hey, at least nothing's broken!"

The egg slid off the bowl that was turned upside down, cracking open and creating a goopy mess. SpongeBob suddenly found the ceiling to be _fascinating_ as he shifted his eyes up toward it and began whistling.

Sandy's face showed a bored scowl, and she resisted the _very strong_ urge to tap her foot against the floor like a rabbit. What she had said about him earlier came spinning back like a boomerang, just as true as ever.

_What am I gonna do with you?_

* * *

_Later…_

After picking things up, SpongeBob helped to add ingredients into a bowl for Sandy to make the dough.

Sandy hunched over the work-in-progress, squinting down at it as if it was a dangerous mixture of chemicals. It left a curious SpongeBob to place a finger against his lip while he studied her. Much like the way he loved it whenever she became aggressive, he loved how focused she could be on things ranging from something as complicated as science to a simple dessert being made for her family.

"Say, I think this is just about ready to be rolled out," she smiled. "Why don't ya take a look right there and pick out which cookie cutters we should use?"

"Ooh, okay! This should be fun," he said happily, turning around to look at the stainless-steel objects.

Seeing that the dough had become the correct mixture of firmness and fluffiness, Sandy flipped the bowl, dumping the squishy ball onto the cutting board. "So… just what exactly was Pat talkin' about earlier?"

SpongeBob's hands stopped where they were. He stared at the counter, trying to assemble his thoughts after hearing her question. "Oh, bahaha! Heh, n-nothing really _important_. Like I said, it was just Patty being Patty."

"You sure he wasn't talkin' about sittin' in the tree and kissin'?"

It suddenly felt as though his hands were on fire again, and he yanked them back, knocking one of the cookie cutters off the counter. He quickly ducked to pick it up and put it back in its place. "Wha— k-k-KISSING? Why, whatever was it that gave you the idea that Patrick was talking about something of that nature?" he turned and looked at her.

"Well, I wasn't sure I heard him correctly at _first. _But after thinkin' about it for a while, I could pretty much gather what he said. After all, I was sittin' right next to ya and could hear that voice of his." She shrugged; her expression nonchalant.

SpongeBob blinked. "Well, I guess that makes sense. Pat does talk pretty loudly sometimes, heh."

"Yep, he surely does."

Simultaneously, they could no longer take each other's eyes and turned back to their tasks; just in time too, because the heat from SpongeBob's hands was starting to spread to his face.

Sandy's rolling out of the dough became slower and more labored, while SpongeBob was having trouble keeping his focus on which cookie cutters to pick. Neither one knew of the right words to address the idea of them engaging in something as intimate as what Patrick was making fun of, so SpongeBob decided to change the subject.

"So, uh…" he began, walking back to stand next to her. Having her eyes on him gave him a jump of nervous enthusiasm. "I picked some really cool ones!" he set them down one at a time. "A cowboy boot, a cowboy _hat_, the classic gingerbread man, a slim candy cane, and finally a— " his eyes bulged when he noticed the familiar pointy shape of it. "…sea… star…" he swallowed hard, remembering Gary's snide comment from that morning. "Gosh, I hope Patrick doesn't look up that word in the dictionary."

"What word was that?" she asked.

"Canni— ah, never mind, it doesn't matter, ahaha," he pushed the cursed cutter further from him with his finger, staring warily at it.

"Well, I think ya made some great choices here. Y'all are welcome to take some cookies home with ya later if ya want to." She said with a smile.

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for reminding me. I was actually going to ask you if I could," he smiled up at her. Once their eyes met, his stomach took off again like it had done while he was swinging on that rope and hanging lights around the Treedome. "I-I mean, for _Patrick_, of course," he looked down at his hands, twirling his fingers.

She questioned if he was playing a game of 'being extra cute' or if it was just coming out naturally. Either way, it was getting to her without her even realizing it. She giggled, grabbing a few of the cutters and pressing them firmly into the dough. "Oh, don't be silly. You can take some for yourself. It's only fair; you helped make 'em,_ baking_ _partner._" She nudged him in the most ticklish area on his stomach, making him place his hand over it.

He stared at her, stunned. Was she _flirting_ with him? It reminded him of the time when he had complimented her about her "meticulous nature" and the way she had responded with a blush, and the batting of her eyelashes. It had annoyed him then, but the waggish way that someone acted when they had an attraction toward another person was beginning to make sense to him, now that it was happening again.

He rubbed his arm, chuckling and glancing off to the side. "Haha, well, thank you… uh… w-what title should I address you by now? We seem to be partners in everything." He grasped the sea star-shaped cutter again and pressed it, without thinking of how Patrick might react to the finished product if he had indeed looked up that word in the dictionary. "or should I still go with 'boss lady' or— "

"How's about we take our birth names for another spin, _SpongeRobert_?" she smiled, concentrating on creating each shape until all the dough would eventually disappear.

"Great idea, _Sandra_."

Silly smirks were exchanged through side-glances. This was certainly turning out to be a different holiday than all the others they had celebrated in the past.

Many more pressings and accidentally touching hands more than once, and the cookies were ready to be baked to perfection.

"There, we have success!" she said, sharing a satisfied smile with him.

"Oh, I'll bet they're gonna taste great! I hope your nieces will enjoy them," he said giddily, squeezing his hands together while watching her carefully place two trays into the hot oven and close the door.

"You bet your darn squeaky shoes they will! They'll eat _anything_," she said, making a wide gesture with her hands and eyes.

"Especially if it's made with _sugar_, right?" he grinned and squinted in a mischievous way.

"Right."

Was that quick little blink of her eyelid meant to be taken as another flirtatious hint?

"Well, I guess we'd better start cleaning up this mess, huh?"

The island, as well as the floor, were covered in flour and crumbles of dough.

"Yeah," she sighed with a slight smile. "think it'd be nice to give the radio a listen to keep us goin'."

Across the way, on the left corner of the counter, was a small, red and square box, with long antennas. Sandy strolled over to it, picking it up to hit the 'on' button and twisting the dial until she landed on a station.

"Well, good evenin', all you fishy-folks out there!" a male voice with a southern accent said through the speaker. "we hope y'all are havin' a fantastic Christmas Eve, no matter what you're doin'!"

The man's perkiness made Sandy shake her head while she swept the flour off the island into her hand with a towel. "Well, _somebody_ seems to be feelin' the spirit tonight."

"That's right, squirrelly, I really am!" he responded as if he was in the room with them.

Sandy and SpongeBob glanced at each other inquisitively before he spoke again.

"If any of y'all listenin' would like to make a generous donation to our station, please give us a call and let us know at 1-800-343-7849, or 1-800-Fid-Stix - short for 'Fiddlesticks'!"

SpongeBob shook his head, pursing his lips to the side. "Mm, I wish I could, but I'm afraid I can't right now. I still don't have room on any of my credit cards."

"Aw, well, that's unfortunate, sponge-man."

SpongeBob looked at Sandy with wide eyes. All she could do was chuckle at the absurdity that was happening.

"Anyhow, it's now time for y'all to get up off your dang seats and do a jig to the next classic song with a country twist on our playlist!"

The crisp sounds of electric and acoustic guitars, mixed beautifully with piano, fiddle, and drums, came flowing from the speaker in the tune of 'Jingle Bells.'

SpongeBob casually rocked his head to the music, while crouching to the floor with the wooden broom and dustpan to sweep up the debris. "Ooh, I like that! It's so catchy, it almost makes me want to dance!"

Sandy was on the same note – except that she was _already_ dancing. She couldn't stop her foot from tapping along to the lively rhythm. Her ears were perked and listening closely to the infectious sounds of the fiddles that reminded her of Texas, while her eyes were closed, and her finger wagged like the tail of a dog.

"Hey, now _there's_ an idea. Let's do it!" she said, taking off her apron.

SpongeBob stood up, looking at her surprised while holding the dustpan and broom. "But, Sandy, I thought we were cleaning_** up!**_ WHOA!"

SpongeBob yelped as she grabbed his hands and caused him to drop everything he was holding. She pulled him into the living room with force, nearly making him float off the ground.

"We were, but that can wait," she beamed. Picking up the sides of her dress, she twirled and skipped around him in a circle, her heart beginning to beat fast as she kicked her body into motion. "Yeehaw!" she cheered.

SpongeBob twisted his head around several times to watch her enjoy herself. He wanted like nothing else to participate but was afraid of embarrassing himself again. He sucked his lips in and stared into space, wishing that he wasn't as stiff as a statue and that he could bring himself to move like her. He knew a lot about things such as slow dancing, but not much about the type of dancing she wanted to do with him.

Sandy now shifted her weight between her feet as she looked at him. "Well, come on, SpongeBob! Don't just stand there, dance with me! It'll be fun."

"Oh, I don't know, Sandy," he held his arm, looking sadly at the floor. "I don't really know how to dance like people do in Texas."

Sandy smiled at his shyness. This time only came once a year and getting to experience such excitement as hearing a type of music that gave her nostalgia while being there with one of her best friends was something that she wanted to take advantage of.

"Ah, don't go doubtin' yourself. It's easy, just…" she stepped forward, holding onto his shoulders and positioning him just right. "follow my lead."

Though her smile was tempting, he was still unconvinced.

Sandy began to instruct him by stepping slightly to the left and walking forward, passing him by the right shoulder. She slid behind him so that they were back-to-back, then walked back to pass him by the left shoulder and stood in front of him again. "That one's called the 'Do-Si-do'," she said, putting her hands on her hips and waiting for his response.

Seeing how easy the move looked, SpongeBob's straight mouth grew into a smile. "Hmm, seems simple enough. Alright, I'll try it."

Together, they repeated the steps, SpongeBob paying attention to the movements of their feet. His unsureness was starting to unravel as they performed a 'Seesaw', which was a left-shoulder Do-Si-do.

He bit his lip, smiling with building enthusiasm. "Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of this!"

"See? I knew you would! Now it's time for the 'Allemande'."

"I-I'm sorry, the Alle-_what?_"

She rolled her eyes. "This."

They stopped in front of each other and joined their right hands together, bending their elbows. They circled around one another, Sandy looking at him while he continued to study their feet. They went around once, then stopped where they started.

With the music blaring in the background, and the trust that was shared, SpongeBob now felt fully encouraged. "Ooh, ooh, I liked that! Can we do it again, please?"

Sandy smiled brightly at his change in attitude. It was sweet and wholesome to see him break out of his doubts and look at her with those innocent eyes. "Why, sure! In fact, it's time for an 'Allemande Left'."

They reversed by joining left hands and going around once again; this time, however, SpongeBob kept his eyes on hers.

She proceeded to teach him how to 'Balance', which was done by facing each other and joining hands, each stepping forward on their right foot and back on the left. After getting used to everything, she taught him a 'Contra Swing'. They started by standing next to each other, holding hands. They then faced one another, stepping slightly to their lefts, standing right hip to right hip.

SpongeBob became shy again when he wasn't sure where to put his hands, but Sandy guided them; placing his right arm around her back, and his left arm extended, forming a cradle. She put her left hand on his right shoulder, and her right hand in his left, bending both their elbows. They circled around clockwise, walking smoothly.

The two were now as bouncy as the tune playing around them. "Woo! Oh, Sandy, you were right; this _is_ fun!" SpongeBob said, buoyantly.

" ' Course it is! Nothin' beats movin' like you're at a Texas dance hall. Yeehaw!"

The room erupted into a fit of giggles as they linked arms and swung around each other like two children at a playground. But of course, like all good things, it had to end.

They were paying no mind to how dangerously close they were getting to a table in the corner of the room, with a lineup of vials; some empty, and some containing chemicals. Suddenly, as his left arm was extended, it came into contact with one of the glass objects, knocking it onto the floor and shattering it into tiny pieces.

They froze, and the music did too; screeching like a needle across a vinyl record. SpongeBob stared at the mess with a blank face until he glanced up at her, his mortification setting in.

"Oops… ah, heh, heh…" he chuckled nervously. What a way to ruin the fun. "Sorry, Sandy."

Sandy was in such good spirits, almost nothing could bother her. She shrugged, going back into the kitchen to get the broom and dustpan. "Eh, it's okay."

"Y-you mean you're not mad?"

"Naw! It's just one vial."

As if it had heard her, another one crashed from above her head, leaving her to sigh in defeat.

SpongeBob had to hold his breath to see if her attitude would change, but it didn't. "Heh, it looks like you'll have to teach those vials some manners, eh?"

Sandy shook her head and smiled, setting aside the broom and dustpan and standing up. "I'm in the mood for tea, how about you?"

"Oh, sure."

While Sandy set up her red tea kettle on the stovetop and checked on the cookies in the oven, the announcer spoke through the radio again. "Alrighty, folks. Now it's time for another classic -and my personal favorite- 'Silver Shells'! So, grab your partner and, instead of swingin' 'em, hold 'em_ close_ and whisper all those little lovey-dovey secrets you've been meanin' to tell 'em since you first met," he said with deviousness and a smile that no one could see.

SpongeBob and Sandy shared a look from across the room. As soon as the charming, soft melody began to play, the same thought came to them. They couldn't… could they?

Sandy walked back toward him; if only she knew the way it looked to him when she did. His heart pounded hard enough to be seen, as he knew what was coming.

"Why don't we try somethin' a little more laid-back?" she asked, stopping in front of him.

"You mean like slow dancing?"

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling.

"Ahaha! O-okay, _yeah… _t-that's kind of what I was thinking."

"Y'all okay?"

He looked up, giving her the calmest smile that he could muster. "Oh, yeah, I am." He gulped, leaning past her and staring at the roaring fire. "Just getting a little hot in here."

"Well, I can open the window again if ya— "

"No, no, that's okay, haha. I'm sure I can get used to it. Uh… shall we?"

Sandy looked down at his open palm. For a person so small, he sure was a big gentleman. She smiled, taking his offer.

With his right hand in her left, his left arm around her back, and her right arm around his back, they swayed from side to side, occasionally shifting on their feet as the deep, soothing voice of a male singer filled the room.

_Silver_ _shells_,

_Silver_ _shells_,

_It's_ _Christmas_ _time_ _in_ _Fish_ _City_…

SpongeBob looked at the radio, a way to fix their lack of conversation entering his mind. "Gee, I heard there's a lot of crime in that city, with all those _fishy _people living there," he grinned sheepishly.

"I heard that, too. The whole ocean's full of all kinds of fishy people, unfortunately."

"Goodness, I never thought I'd see the day that I'd get a headache from a bad joke," the French narrator rubbed his diving helmet where his temples would be, sitting in his submarine out in the middle of the sea.

They couldn't decide what to look at. The lights on the walls were rather interesting, and so was the fire and the tree, but they still were not enough to stop their eyes from continuing to search.

"Hey, Sandy?"

"Yeah?"

"Um, I… just wanted to say I'm sorry for messing up so many things today."

Their eyes finally found each other. His were as shimmery as they were regretful.

Sandy gave him a warm smile of understanding. "Aw, you didn't mess anything up, SpongeBob."

"But... I caught myself on fire… a-and I dropped all that stuff in the kitchen and broke one of your chemical vials, and I'm even stepping on your foot right now!"

They looked down to see that his left foot was indeed on top of hers. Sandy cleared her throat, raising her brow at him.

"Oh, right, sorry." He pulled his black shoe off her soft slipper.

"It doesn't really matter if we have a few slipups here and there, SpongeBob. Nothing can be perfect, but today was about as close to it as it could possibly be," she spoke sincerely.

Sandy, just like everybody else in town, could get easily annoyed by SpongeBob's antics. And when she would really let them get to her, she'd even get angry with him. But he had been kind enough to help her on such short notice; willing to spend the entire day getting everything ready just to give her sister and nieces something to look forward to. She figured she'd be crazy if she allowed herself to get more than just a tiny bit irritated by any stupid thing he had done.

"Really? But… how is that so, Sandy?" SpongeBob asked, cocking his head to the side in puzzlement.

"Easy," she shrugged, losing herself in his curious gaze. "we got this place all whipped into shape, right?"

"Right."

"And we had lots of fun while doin' it, didn't we?"

"Uh-huh, that's true."

"Ya see?" she smiled at him, which he returned.

"Yeah, I see."

"Is there anything you can think to add?"

Looking into her pretty brown eyes, the answer came to him without trouble. "We got to spend time together."

Even though he stated it so plainly, his words held a profoundness that tied itself around her heart in a perfect bow. How something so simple could touch her so deeply was remarkable. His sweet honesty was one of the best things about him, and she had never appreciated it as much as she did right now.

"Yeah…" she looked at him with affection and leaned in close, gently pressing her fluffy cheek against the side of his head. "we sure did."

SpongeBob's mouth gaped open at her tender decision. They had never experienced each other this way before; their skin touching, and his face up against her shoulder. She smelled strongly of acorns and cedarwood, and her grandmother's dress was as soft as a knitted blanket, giving him a feeling of comfort.

The country twang coming from the song tickled Sandy's ears. This reminded her of the story of her great grandmother's first dance with Sandy's great grandfather. The differences were that they had been in a cold barn, surrounded by cattle, ducks, and chickens, and both had been born the same species. But the sense of true friendship and love were present in both cases.

_Oh_, _wow… _SpongeBob thought, his head and heart flooding with emotions. There was something about what was happening that didn't feel quite right in a sense; were friends supposed to get_ this _close to one another?

_Gosh, I never knew just how comfy Sandy's shoulder is— oh! W-wait a minute, what am I thinking? She's one of my best friends, this isn't right! T-this is— _

Sandy tightened her arm around his back, pressing him deeper into her. It was becoming _very _apparent that she felt this was right, considering that she wanted him as close to her as possible.

SpongeBob became like melted chocolate in her embrace. His heart thumped against her stomach, and hers against the edge of his cheek. The look on the side of his face that peeked out from her shoulder was the silliest, most innocent beam of enchantment; his eyelid half-closed, and half his lips curved into what would be a horseshoe-shaped smile.

_This is… just… ohh, I don't even know what it is, but it feels so __**wonderful. **_He sighed blissfully, bringing Sandy back to Earth. She pulled away and looked down at his goofy expression.

Her heartfelt smile faded into concern. "Wow, the heat_ really _must be gettin' to ya."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, still smiling at her like a lovesick fool.

"Your cheeks are lookin' redder than two chili peppers."

His face jumped into a look of embarrassment and surprise. _Oh, my! Is it really that obvious?! I knew my face felt kind of __**hot, **__but… _

He quickly slapped a hand against his right cheek, chuckling. "Heh, heh! M-must be the fabric of your dress; it's so _warm."_

"Yeah, I suppose…" she shifted her eyes away from him. "but I don't remember my shoulder feelin' so hot until ya— "

"Time for the twirling part, wee!" he hastily interrupted, just barely stretching his arm above her head and spinning her around until they stood feet away, their hands still connected.

She could go on to question why he had decided to change up the moves so suddenly, _and _the issue of his burning-red face. But she had to admit that she was enjoying both too much to even care; after all, he was light on his feet and looked adorable when he was so flushed.

"Now it's your turn to get dizzy," she teased, stepping forward slightly and twirling him until his back was tucked into her. Holding his hand, she wrapped both their arms around his stomach, hitting that sensitive spot again.

"Tee-hee! I'm not dizzy, but I _am _ticklish. Bahaha!" he giggled, causing her to do the same.

SpongeBob's nerves now had something else to focus on, as they spun around the room in carefree ways that no longer matched the rhythm of the music. However, that didn't last long.

It was time for another accident. While spinning around, they bumped into the side of a tree trunk, causing bunches of leaves and strange-looking berries to fall.

"Ow!" they groaned, rubbing their heads and necks while still standing in position.

"Well, so much for 'laid back'," she said, sighing.

SpongeBob wasn't too worried about the pain from hitting himself anymore. He was more taken by the white balls that sat near their feet. "Hey, Sandy, those little berries look kind of familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on what they are or where they come from," he said while placing his hand under his chin.

Sandy looked down at them, then bent to pick up a handful. She lifted them to her nostrils, sniffing them. "Well, I'll be darned. These here poisonous little suckers must belong to— "

More fell between them. Slowly, they tilted their heads and looked up at the green, parasitic plant attached to the thick branch. It was as if it was staring them in their faces, daring them to make a move.

"Oh, yeah!" SpongeBob said cheerily. "Now I remember, they come from mistle… _toe_."

They looked at each other, both expecting the other to make an excuse to get out of this terribly awkward situation.

"Heh, heh," he laughed. "I-I don't remember hanging that up there today."

"Well, hey, I don't remember doin' it either. In fact, I _know _I didn't. It must be growin' right out of my tree," she said, looking up at it.

The music was nearing its end, and it was becoming a bit senseless for them to just keep standing there, holding each other like they were going to resume their dance.

"Pfft, such a _silly_ tradition, huh?" he rolled his eyes, just as she looked back at him.

Truthfully, SpongeBob had always liked the romantic holiday custom; he found two people sharing their love in such a sugary-sweet way to be one of the loveliest ideas out there, but he never imagined _himself _getting stuck in a position to continue that custom, especially with a close friend. Now, it suddenly felt like it _wasn't _such a good idea. Or, at least, it was a good time to_ pretend _that it wasn't.

Sandy was the one who told him about the tradition many years before, but now she was just as ready to push it aside as he was. Nothing wrong with faking it for a bit, right?

"Ha, ha," she chuckled lightly. "y-yeah, I'll say. Why, I don't think I've ever heard of _anything _as silly as that."

"Yeah. I mean, really, _kissing _under a poisonous shrub? Pft, what could they _possibly _think of next?"

"Woo-wee! You said it."

The delicate sparkles in his blue eyes were starting to do awfully strange things to her head. And the fact that those yellow lips looked _mighty _pleasing at the moment was only dragging her further into the trance she was beginning to fall under.

SpongeBob's heart was beating faster than it had all day. _Oh_, _my_… _is_… _is_ _Sandy_ _looking_ _at_ _my_… _my_… _no_, _she_ _can't_ _be_! _She_ _can't_ _be_ _looking_ _there_. _Wait_ _a_ _minute_… _why_ _does she seem to be getting close_r_?_ _I think I_ _saw_ _this_ _in_ _a_ _movie_ _once_… _I don't_ _remember_ _how_ _it_ _ended_ _but_ _I could_ _take_ _a_ _good_ _guess_ _on_ _how_ _it_ _did_. _Maybe… she just wants to see if there's something in my teeth? Yeah! Yeah, t-that's gotta be it. Oh, but what if there's something caught in her teeth, too? I'd better take a closer look, just to check it out._

He was slowly rising to his tippy toes. However, he wasn't doing a very good job at examining her teeth. He became more interested in the soft-looking cushions that surrounded them.

"Gosh, you know, I… I don't even know why… people do it _at all._ It's just… _so _silly."

"_Extremely _silly."

"The silliest thing in the _whole world_."

"That's for dang sure."

He couldn't stand any higher on his toes, so she was working to fix the problem by lowering her head. Friends help each other out, do they not?

"Gee, that's funny. I-I'm… starting to feel a little woozy here, heh."

"Are ya?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what do ya know? I am, too."

Their voices became soft and dreamlike the nearer that she inched, slowly closing the distance. Looking into the eyes of one another, they lost themselves completely.

Neither was thinking clearly; their minds were fogged-up like frost over glass. SpongeBob's panicky thoughts had disintegrated. He still couldn't believe this was happening, but he was already plummeting into it as if it were a land of never-ending magical spells, and he couldn't stop himself.

Perhaps there was some truth to Patrick's teasing. They may not have been _sitting_ in a tree this time, but they were still inside of one, nonetheless.

As their hearts pounded, the tip of his nose brushed against hers, and their eyelids shut. 'Silver Shells' came to a peaceful end, just as their puckered lips were about to meet.

A high-pitched whistling sound pierced the air and their eardrums, and both sets of eyes burst open. They had been unpleasantly awakened from their dream and were now getting smacked with reality.

"Ah!" he gasped, falling toward her off his toes.

"Whoa, careful there!"

She caught him; one hand on his chest, and the other around his arm. They were in an even more awkward place than before, as they couldn't seem to stop staring at each other with shock.

"What in tarnation?" she said.

Their heads finally swiveled around the room, looking to see where that noise was coming from.

The tea kettle had been left unattended and was shooting steam from its spout; bouncing around on the burner. It _did_ seem to be hot in there, in more ways than one.

Sandy left his side, the wind from her rushing off blowing by him. She made it to the stove and turned off the fire.

"Tea's ready!" she looked over at SpongeBob, who suddenly felt as though he was melting into a chocolate puddle again.

"Uh… oh, thanks a lot, Sandy. I wish I could have some, but…" he tapped his fingers together. "I-I've gotta get home and cook dinner."

Sandy watched him like she was witnessing an escaping criminal. She quickly caught up with him before he could leave. "O-oh, really? Well, darn! That's just too bad."

He kicked at the floor, his hands behind his back and his eyes wandering again. "Ha, ha, _well, _a sponge has got to eat."

"Are ya sure I can't fix ya somethin' here? I've got plenty of food."

"Oh, no! No need for that, aha. I've got Gary to worry about, too." His eyes were now fixed on her, even as he felt for his scarf and earmuffs that were hanging over a hook on the wall. "poor guy must be famished. That is if he hasn't already chewed up the sofa, bahaha! Oh, but if he _hasn't, _and he's still hungry, Patrick's there to feed him! Oh, but wait... he always forgets how to use the can opener. Well, darn! I guess it's _still_ up to me then, ahaha! Besides, I think I've been up here a bit too long anyway; my holes are starting to feel a little… parched."

Sandy blinked from his rapid speech pattern. "Yeah, I-I suppose since I closed the window, it'_s _gotten to be a bit dry in here."

"Yep, well, see ya later, Sandy. It's been a great day. Glad I could help you out." He skidded on his heels when she called him back. _Barnacles!_

"Oh, wait! Don't forget the cookies. They should be about done."

"Oh, _**yeah! **_Sheesh, I don't know what's going through this head of mine."

He knew just _exactly _what was going through it: the thought of her lips coming _ridiculously _close to touching his.

"I-I think I'll just go take them out." He ran past her and into the kitchen.

Sandy shook her head quickly, following him. "SpongeBob, no! Don't— "

He stuck his hands into the oven, without thinking about the consequences. "Oh, oh, o-ow, ouch! OH, MOTHER OF PEARL, THIS IS HOT!"

Like the tea kettle, the scorching tray bounced until it landed on the counter, rattling loudly.

From wrist to fingertips, his hands were bright red. "Oh, not again," he grumpily moaned.

Sandy couldn't figure out if she was irritated by his rash decision or if she felt sorry for him. "Well, I tried to warn ya! Here, let me help ya." She went to grab them, intending to run them under cold water. But he retracted them inside his sleeves faster than she could blink.

"N-no, that's okay! I can just… rip them off and grow them back again later. I _am a sponge, _after all. Ahaha!"

Sandy's shoulders rose and fell quickly as she followed along in his forced laughter. Judging by the look in his eyes, she could tell he was under stress and she didn't want to make it any worse. She was feeling tense inside too, and she wasn't sure if it was showing.

"Ha, ha, that ya are. Just hold on a minute and I'll wrap some up for ya."

"_No _problem."

After anxiously waiting for her to cover a pile of the doughy gingerbread cookies with plastic wrap over a clean, white plate, SpongeBob pushed his arms back out of his sleeves as she approached him.

"There ya are. All fresh and ready to go."

"Thanks, Sandy, I— _Ahhh, ha!" _the slapping of the plate against his hands created an intense stinging sensation, making his eyes water.

"Ooh, sorry!" Sandy winced.

"Ah, that's okay. I hope you have a very Merry Kissmas— I-I MEAN, _Christmas! _Christmas, I meant _**Christmas**_**, **aha! Ahahaha— OW!"

in the process of backing away from her, he bumped into the door before running out of it. He never imagined that he would need to use his Quickster powers in a time such as this.

An expression of speechlessness came over Sandy's face. She lifted the green shade over the window and looked out into the brilliantly lit dome of lights. SpongeBob was already knee-deep in the white blanket, struggling to make it to the door.

"SpongeBob!"

"Huh? WHOA!" he tripped and fell facedown, dropping the plate.

Sandy cringed at the thought of the ice enveloping him. "Are ya okay?"

All she could see was a faint thumbs-up sticking out of the snow before he popped out of it and picked the plate back up.

"Yeah, I'm good. What is it you wanted to say?" his voice echoed as he twisted open the steel door.

"I just wanted to say Merry Christmas to you too, and thanks for the help!"

"Oh, you're welcome! Hey, how about I call you to see how things go tomorrow?"

"Why, sure! Sounds good to me. Bye!"

"Okay, bye!"

The loud sound of metal creaked. She stared out at his footprints that were near the snow angels they had created earlier that day. Sighing, she pulled the shade down. She pondered the last few minutes of the day while working to remove that mistletoe before it could destroy her tree with its poisonous nature.

"Hello? _Hello?" _a confused voice rose from beneath the snow. Patrick, hours after SpongeBob had thrown his shell-phone from the tree, was still on the line and waiting for a response.

"SpongeBob? You still there? SpongeBob?"

While taking a long pause, he got nothing but silence.

"Come on, get me out of here! It's been hours and I'm so _cold!"_

* * *

**A/N: I apologize if I got any of the dance moves wrong. I watched many instructional videos on them, wrote them down, but it was still a lot of steps to keep up with, lol. Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7: Oh Crazy Night

**Wow, nothing like continuing a Christmas story in February, huh? XD. Thanks so much for the support you've all given this story! It really warms my **_**Holly **__**Jolly**_** heart *laugh track*. Man, I'm lame, lol. Also, I've decided to make this into eight chapters, **_**with**_** a small epilogue (I always end up making stories a lot longer than I planned, ha). And this chapter, by the way, is ****EXTREMELY**** long and just all over the place; I hope you'll be able to make it through, lol. Anyways, enough of my babbling. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Holly Jolly Help**

_~French Narrator~_

"The next evening – all holly and full of Christmas cheer! Oh, how I love this time of year. Heh, you know, I am not just a narrator. I am also a pretty good poet. AHEM, anyway, let us see what our undersea friends are up to on this festive night, shall we?"

6 o'clock on December 25th. The stunning beauty of nightfall in Bikini Bottom was something that could warm anybody's heart and lift their spirits just by quietly observing it.

Surrounding the Krusty Krab was a thin sheet of snow and shimmering ice; thanks to the light from the Moon, the gifts from the weather shined as brightly as ever. Accompanying such a marvelous sight were the multi-colored strings of lights that were wrapped around every inch of the outside of the restaurant, as well as the giant clam-shaped sign.

The sky was mostly clear, with its deep shades of blue brought out by the shining stars, and the water was still, making the scene calm, quiet and uplifting.

Things inside the house of the Krabby Patty had a similar vibe; the atmosphere was pleasant and warm, with brilliant lights strung around all corners of the restaurant.

Well, it may have been cheerful for the most part, but it certainly wasn't quiet – not with the conversation that was being had, as well as the subtle insults being thrown every couple of minutes.

SpongeBob, Mr. Krabs, and Squidward worked to finish decorating the new, artificial Christmas tree that Krabs had been forced to buy at the last minute since the first one had been stolen at the mall the day before. There went his vow to himself that he wasn't going to spend money on such a thing this year.

Squidward, of course, wasn't in the mood to work by placing those cheap-looking bulbs on the plastic branches, but Mr. Krabs had insisted – ordered him, actually – to participate, seeing as how it was his fault that the other tree was no longer in their hands.

The crustacean didn't care to take into account how Squidward had been chased down by devilish children, thus causing him to abandon the tree in the first place.

Over the years, Krabs had slowly lost his ability to be understanding and forgiving, except with himself, of course.

SpongeBob, after throwing his _Fancy_ _Pants_ _Emporium_ outfit in the washer, luckily still had a set of clothing that just as cozy, comfortable and festive. But he didn't need to worry about a tag hanging off his sleeve this time, because it was a cliché, ugly Christmas sweater he was sporting this night, specially made by his sweet, old grandmother. Bright red like a fire truck, with a green criss-cross design of a tree on the front, and a yellow star on top, the sweater was definitely eye-catching, but it wasn't as loud as it could have been, as he paired it up with a black, open vest and trousers to match, which gave him flashbacks of those long pants he once wore that made him feel more like a man.

"Ahh, isn't this great, guys?" SpongeBob asked with a blissful sigh, leaning to his left to sprinkle loose, silver tinsel over a branch. "All of us together on Christmas night, sharing in the peace, love, and harmony of this joyous occasion? I'm having the time of my life!"

"Ohh, yeah. So am I," Squidward replied in a bland tone, his eyelids drooping. His next sentence was spoken with that heavy sigh that usually meant his annoyance levels were rising. "I'm having just tons of fun enjoying these lovely **blisters** on the bottoms on my tentacles that have been here since late yesterday." He lifted one of his tentacles to reveal unsightly, red bumps around its suction cups; all of them _way_ too realistic looking.

Mr. Krabs glanced up at him just in time to catch a glare that was forming on his face.

"No thanks to a certain forgetful boss of ours, who left me at the mall with **zero** transportation!"

"Oh, quit your bellyachin', Mr. Squidward. I had the important business to attend to of making a gift for me Puffily-poo," he leaned forward in front of SpongeBob so that he could peer at Squidward. "And I _didn't_ have time to wait around for a certain four-legged employee of mine to finish gettin' beaten up in the parkin' lot by a group of kids, arg arg arg arg arg arg!"

"Oh, puh-lease! I will have you know that they didn't beat me up!" Squidward argued, taking his angry eyes off Krabs and placing the last green bulb in his pile on an upper branch.

"Yeah, you're right. They only pelted ya with balls of chewed-up paper. Nothin' embarrassin' about _that_, right? Arg arg arg arg arg!"

There was that same smug look on Krabs' face that he had when he had sat his boat in the mall parking lot for a minute and watched his employee get humiliated from a distance. In his opinion, what happened to Squidward might as well have been called a "beating", what with the way he was crying like an infant on the ground while the children stood over him.

SpongeBob stared up at Squidward's clenched face; his features shaking violently with rage.

"Aw, don't feel bad about it, Squidward! At least you're still alive."

"Gee, thanks, SpongeBob. That makes me feel **so** much better. Bonehead." Squidward released a puff of air from the side of his mouth and rolled his eyes, smirking at his own little dig. "Heh, **bonehead**," he snickered, "it's funny because you're stupid _and_ an invertebrate."

SpongeBob stood there like the oblivious doofus that he often was, with a smile so bright it could've blinded someone. "You're welcome, Squidward!"

"Wha— I was being sarcastic, you dunce!"

"_Sardonic_ is more like it," said Patrick from across the room, being lazy and sitting on a tabletop while chewing on those gingerbread cookies that SpongeBob had made with Sandy.

The other three men stared at him with expressions of troubled confusion. It was true that Patrick sometimes had a smart side, but it was still a wonder how he knew words, such as the one he had just uttered, but he had no clue about ones like "cannibal". And speaking of said word, Gary had shown it to him in the dictionary the day before, after he had gotten done rubbing his stubs.

Gary didn't care to explain the meaning to the starfish; he wanted to see if he could figure it out himself.

He would've done that had he been able to actually _read_ the definition in the book. But since he couldn't, he had simply tossed it aside in SpongeBob's library, shrugged his flabby shoulders, kept waiting for SpongeBob to pick his shell phone out from the snow, and intended to eat the Christmas cookies anyways, whether some of them were star-shaped or not.

Now that the Christmas tree was all finished (except for a star to top it off with), SpongeBob headed over in the direction of his best friend, stopping once he reached the table. He inhaled a deep breath and let it go, staring out the glass doors at the dreamy night outside.

The serene ambience of this season made SpongeBob's heart feel as though it were being dipped in a river of warmth, hope, and nostalgia. He remembered the night that Sandy had treated him to hours of amazing information about Christmas; the way that she had jumped around and made all sorts of silly faces and poses to demonstrate the different traditions had made his pupils grow larger than the swarm of jellyfish in his gut at the time.

If it weren't for Sandy, Bikini Bottom would have been forever in the dark about this cheerful, heartwarming time of year.

SpongeBob was ever grateful to her for what she had done.

He knew it wouldn't be the same without her tonight.

Nevertheless, even though he was going to miss her presence this evening, he was still happy knowing that she would be with her beloved sister and three nieces; it would have been awfully selfish of him to want her to celebrate at the Krusty Krab instead of her cozy Treedome. Luckily, selfishness wasn't something that often had a place in SpongeBob's heart.

But sometimes life under the sea could bring about the best of surprises. Perhaps Sandy and her family would stop by for a visit at the end of the night.

He still held out hope for that.

"My, oh my. Isn't it just beautiful, Patrick?" SpongeBob said softly, placing his clasped hands against his chest as his eyes glistened with tears.

"Uh-huh, it sure is," Patrick replied in a distracted voice.

"All sparkly and soft, with a touch of magic."

"Oh, yeah, ha, ha. That's a good way to describe it."

In truth, they were talking about two very different things; SpongeBob referring to the glittery, fluffy snow on the ground outside, and Patrick talking about the tiny sugar crystals that twinkled on the pillow-like cookie in his hand.

Patrick surely knew how to appreciate _true_ beauty.

"Doesn't it make you wanna go outside and play in it?" SpongeBob asked, biting his lip and grinning.

"Mm, mm, nope," Patrick said between chomps, "it makes me wanna stay inside and eat it."

"Huh? Patrick, what are you— "

When SpongeBob turned to the side, he was met with the sight of the empty plate that was borrowed from Sandy. His eyes then traveled up to his gluttonous best friend, whose mouth was covered in baked crumbs.

"Oh, tartar sauce, Patrick!" SpongeBob exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips. "Why didn't you save me one like I asked you to?"

"Well, I was _**going**_ to," Patrick's blank face faded into a scowl. "But then I remembered how you left me hanging in the snow in Sandy's Treedome yesterday."

"Patrick, I have no clue what you're talking about," SpongeBob raised an eyebrow, his annoyed side taking hold of him.

"Pft, don't play innocent with me, mister," Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now I bet your phone's as frozen solid as I was all day yesterday."

"Oh, my shell phone!" SpongeBob slapped his hands against his cheeks, the memory of him throwing it out of the oak tree coming back to smack him upside the head. He wasn't even bothering to question how it was possible for Patrick to know that he had thrown it out of the tree in the first place. And he _sure_ as heck wasn't about to question the other tale Patrick was telling about him being trapped beneath the snow.

"Oh, barnacles! I hope it's okay; I just added a new phone card to it last week," SpongeBob frowned, his shoulders slumping.

"What's this about your shell phone, boy?" asked Mr. Krabs, scuttling up to his yellow employee while holding an empty box that once held Christmas supplies.

"I left it at Sandy's place— "

"Left it? Pssh, more like _buried_ it," Patrick remarked, rolling his eyes.

"What's he talkin' about, boy-o?"

"Well, sir, I threw it out of Sandy's tree before we got to decorating her Treehouse yesterday. But the thing is, I told her I'd call her tonight to see how she and her sister and nieces are doing. They're coming all the way from Texas for a visit."

"Oh, well, that ain't a problem, SpongeBob!" Mr. Krabs smiled, waving him off with his claw. "Ye can just use the phone here at the Krusty Krab!"

"Oh, yeah! Bahaha! Gee, why didn't I think of that? Thanks, cap'n!"

SpongeBob hadn't realized that his boss wasn't finished with his sentence.

"…for a small fee of twenty-five cents."

It was no wonder he had gotten a lump of coal in his stocking this morning; Santa Claus didn't just have a naughty list – he had a list of the greediest creatures in the sea, and Mr. Krabs was number one this year.

Well, he was number one _every_ year, really.

"What?! That's preposterous!" Squidward shouted, standing near the pile of empty boxes in the far-left corner of the room. "We shouldn't have to _pay_ to use the phone in the place that we work in!"

Squidward, though he hardly ever spoke reasonably to SpongeBob nowadays, and didn't think it was worth it, to begin with, decided there could be a chance that the porous weirdo might listen to him this time, much like he sometimes did in the past, such as when he convinced him to go on strike.

"You're not gonna take that, are you, SpongeBob?" he asked with determination, placing his tentacles on his hips.

Not surprisingly, SpongeBob's foolish and generous side won, and he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a shiny, new quarter and dropping it into Mr. Krabs' claw. "There you are, Mr. Krabs!" he looked up at the hour on the wall clock. "I think right now would be the perfect time to make that call," he zoomed over to the cash register where the push-button phone sat.

A sigh of defeat escaped the octopus, and his eyelids sagged lower than his enthusiasm. "I should've known. Once a ninny, always a ninny."

Meanwhile, since Patrick was finished indulging in the cookies (and had also eaten the plate that held them), he wanted to find something else to entertain himself with. Though sitting there all bored sounded relaxing, it was an activity he did on a regular basis as it was, so the idea of changing things up would be nice.

He turned his gaze up towards the tall, brilliantly lit Christmas tree. Anything shiny and pretty always managed to grab his attention, and this was no different. The longer he stared at it, the more his eyes widened with fascination. This reminded him of the time when he, SpongeBob, and many Bikini Bottom citizens were singing "The Very First Christmas," and he brought his line of the song to life by jumping on top of the tree outside Squidward's house.

Doing so had bruised the inside of his derriere for many weeks, but it was worth it with how much fun he had, being a decoration for a while.

The tree he was staring at right now looked naked without something on top to complete it.

"Hmmm…" he rubbed his chin as memories of their first Christmas continued to flash through his usually vacant headspace. "Hey, Mr. Krabs?"

"What is it, Patrick?" Krabs asked, a hint of frustration in his voice as he fumbled with a strand of lights that had come down from the wall, in the very back corner of the room.

"Do you have any plans to uh…" Patrick scratched the top of his pointy head. "Finish with the tree?"

"The tree is already finished, boy."

"But what about the star?"

"Ha! You should've seen what they charged at the store for those chintzy, little pieces of glass. There was _no_ _way_ I was about to waste any more of me money than I already had buyin' that hunk of plastic greenery." He turned his head slightly to glance at the curious sea star. "We're just gonna have to do without a star this year."

Or _would_ they?

Patrick turned back to look at the tree.

_A star on top will complete all the scenery… _

The lyrics to that lively tune grew louder until a genius idea flew into his mind.

To _him_, it was genius. In reality, it was another buffoonish move that could potentially destroy all of the work that the three men had done earlier.

As SpongeBob picked up the silvery-blue receiver and was readying his finger to dial Sandy's number, his pet snail rolled over to him on a light blue skateboard (or snail-board, to be more accurate). For once, Gary's eyes were filled with glee instead of bland annoyance.

"Oh, hey, Gare! Are you enjoying the new present you got from Santa this morning?" SpongeBob asked with a giddy smile, leaning against the boat.

Gary nodded his eyestalks and grinned. "Meow, meow! (Oh, yes! This thing absolutely rules! I think I'll ride it around some more.)"

"Okay," SpongeBob chuckled, watching as the mollusk smoothly turned the sports equipment to the left, rolling around a table. "Just be careful with that thing, m'kay? You never know what kind of dangerous, secret functions it might have, what with Santa's elves being _full_ of surprises and all."

Oh, Papa-Bob and his silly imagination and fears.

That hint of irritation returned to Gary's eyes, only this time, it was mixed with amusement. "Meow (Pft, yeah, right. 'Dangerous, secret functions.')"

Coming to a slow stop on the snail-board, the things that his owner said had pushed their way through a small opening in Gary's thoughts and were now tearing into them, making the tiny hole a gigantic one so that they could invade his brain completely.

He looked down at his new toy with temptation and genuine interest. "Meow? (Hmm… 'secret functions', eh?)"

"Curiosity killed the snail" was a saying that might just apply to this situation.

With the devious mollusk now exploring the possibilities of what the object underneath his slimy undercarriage could do, and Patrick slowly approaching the Christmas tree with his "genius" idea, it was safe to say that things would turn chaotic.

_Very_ soon.

"Hmm…" SpongeBob tapped his foot against the green, wooden floorboards and waited anxiously for Sandy to pick up on the other end. "I wonder why she isn't answering..."

"Maybe she isn't picking up because the caller ID on her phone says, 'incoming ding-a-ling'. Heh, heh, heh!" Squidward laughed, slapping his knee while his nose inflated and deflated.

SpongeBob shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. "No, that can't be it, Squidward. Sandy's house phone doesn't have caller ID."

Why did the cephalopod even bother with the insults at this point?

"Mayhaps she's just busy with her sister and the three little monsters— I-I mean, nieces," Patrick said with a shake of his head, remembering what tiny terrors Pistachio, Macadamia, and Hazelnut were to him the day he met them.

"Hm, I guess you're right, Patrick…" SpongeBob placed the receiver back on the hook, only to pick it up again seconds later. "Maybe I should keep trying." He showed a small smile and pushed the cold buttons with numbers printed on them. "I mean, I should've expected her to be busy with them anyway," he planted a hand on his hip. "That's the whole reason I'm calling her in the first place is to see how they're doing, like I mentioned earlier, bahaha!" he laughed in a way that allowed the others to see he was being a bit smug but was also hiding some nerves under that spongy exterior of his. He couldn't have been laughing at his own joke, because dear Neptune, it wasn't funny. It wasn't even a _joke_, at all.

"Are ya sure you're not calling her to talk about the **K-I-S-S-I-N-G—ING **you guys were doing in her tree yesterday?" Patrick asked matter-of-factly, loud enough to catch the attention of Krabs and Squidward, who would both just _love_ to know that kind of information.

"Huh?! Wha—why, n-no, Patrick!" SpongeBob shook his head quickly, his smile dropping straight off his lips. If his face were a movie screen, it would be showing a film called, "Humiliation Central."

"Meow, meow! (Oooh! Papa-Bob and Sandy sharing a smooch, huh?)" Gary wiggled his eyebrows while still messing with his snail-board.

"Well now, ain't that somethin'? Arg arg arg arg arg arg!" Mr. Krabs teased with a playful smirk.

"Oh, no, Mr. Krabs! Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! I-it isn't what you think," SpongeBob shook with weak laughter. "Y-ya see, w-we were just hanging Christmas bulbs and stringing up lights in there and we— "

"Were you stringing up _hearts_ in there, too? Heh, heh, heh!"

The mortified look in SpongeBob's blue eyes was replaced with serious confusion. "Wouldn't that be done on Valentine's Day, Squidward?"

"Oh, I. Give. **Up**!" Squidward threw his tentacles in the air out of pure exasperation. Again, why did he bother with this fool?

"Anyways, guys, you've got it all wrong; S-Sandy and I weren't _kissing_, ah, ha, ha!" SpongeBob placed the receiver back down on the hook again, picking it up shortly after to dial a third time. "That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? After all, she's one of my best friends— "

"Hey, I thought _**I **_was your best friend!" Patrick said, sadness, anger, and fraudulent betrayal showing on his face.

"I-I said **one** of my best friends, Pat."

"Oh…" Patrick sniffled, wiping away a fake tear, "carry on."

"The point is, Sandy and I didn't kiss! W-we _wouldn't_ kiss; we're just good friends. Good friends don't share kisses! I mean, just because we almost kissed under the mistletoe that was growing out of a branch in her Treehouse later on in the evening yesterday, doesn't make a hill of barnacles, right? Ha, ha!"

"A-ha!" exclaimed Mr. Krabs, pointing a claw towards him, after he and the others gasped dramatically.

"'A-ha' what, Mr. Krabs?" SpongeBob asked.

"Didn't you hear what just came out of your own mouth, you buffoon?!" said Squidward, stretching out his arms to demonstrate his frustration.

"Uhhh…" SpongeBob itched his chest where his ugly sweater was irritating his skin. "S-somethin' about… " he gulped, "hills and barnacles? Heh, heh…"

The thought of his little, innocent employee kissing someone who wasn't his mother, grandmother, or pet snail was as amusing to Mr. Krabs as Plankton trying to steal the formula. "Aye," he scuttled over to SpongeBob and wrapped a fatherly arm around him. "Just relax, boy-o," he said, noticing the sweaty look of worry on the sponge's face. "There ain't nothin' wrong with kissin' the lass of your dreams!"

"B-but Mr. Krabs, I— "

"In fact," Krabs said with a proud smile, scuttling over towards his open office. "I'd say this is a cause for celebration!"

"What is?"

"Havin' your first kiss!"

"But Sandy and I _didn't_ kiss, sir…"

"Eh, yeah, you're right…" he rubbed the back of his shell, looking off to the side and trying to sort out his thoughts. "Well, then it's a celebration of money!"

"But what does money have to do with anything?"

"Nothin'; I just like celebratin' it, arg arg arg arg arg!" with that, Mr. Krabs scuttled away into his office, leaving SpongeBob to pay full attention to the phone.

After placing the phone back on the hook and picking it up yet again to dial the familiar number, SpongeBob's ear was suddenly filled with low, repeated sounds of beeping. A slight gasp came from him, and he snapped his fingers. "Oh, barnacles!"

"What's wrong, buddy?" asked Patrick, who was just about to start his climb up the tree; his right leg wrapped around part of the right side of it, and his left arm around the upper left portion.

"The line's busy now."

"Hm. Need some help?"

SpongeBob stared into space with a concerned and far-off look. "That's nice of you to offer, Patrick, but there's really nothing you could do to hel— "

Much like the way in which SpongeBob still had his 'Quickster' speed, Patrick was able to activate his 'Elastic Waistband' powers and stretch his right arm like a thick rubber band, reaching all the way over to grab the phone away from SpongeBob's hand and pull it back to his own ear. How the receiver could be stretched that far without snapping, or without the whole phone getting yanked out from the wall was quite a mystery.

"Hey, line!" Patrick yelled into the speaker, "stop being busy, so SpongeBob can talk to Sandy!"

* * *

In the office, Mr. Krabs made his way to the desk, where a short, dirty, jet-black kitchen appliance sat.

Tonight was the perfect time to use the brand-new coffeemaker that he had recently purchased from a garage sale, held by Old Man Jenkins.

Well, perhaps it wasn't _**brand**_-new; according to Jenkins, it had actually been sitting out in his garage for the last forty years or so. But anything that Krabs didn't have to pay big bucks for was good enough to be considered new in his eyes.

He had tested out the machine earlier in the day, and the beverage that it had produced, which was _supposed_ to have been hot sea coffee, tasted like a sour, moldy Krabby Patty instead, and he refused to believe that until Squidward spat it in his face, and that allowed him to get a good taste of it.

It should've been thrown away ages ago, but Krabs still wanted to get his money's worth out it, even if it sent him to the bathroom to vomit, as had happened when he had tasted the coffee the first time.

He would never learn, would he?

"Do, dee, do, do, do, do," he sang with a smile as he stood in front of the desk, opening a blue, plastic jar full of cocoa powder and taking a silver tablespoon to scoop some into a white coffee filter.

Since the pot of plain sea coffee didn't go exactly as planned, he thought that perhaps the brown, finely ground substance was sweet enough not to be affected by the disgustingness of the appliance.

Or he could just clean the whole pot and system so that there wasn't a chance of it tasting nasty at all, but that would require more work than he was willing to put in.

"Ah," he sighed with happiness, putting the lid back onto the jar. "Nothin' quite like the warmth of a steamin' cup of processed sugar and crushed beans to celebrate what makes the world go 'round, arg arg arg arg arg arg arg!"

With the cocoa ready, and a clear measuring cup of water nearby, it was time to start the "celebration". He lifted the black lid on the coffee maker, allowing him to see into the reservoir and the basket in the center to place the filter in.

"Oh," he glowered, "scallops! Looks like I forgot to clean this contraption out from this mornin'." He stared down at the moist, black pile of crumbs sitting in a wet filter and intended to dump it into the trash.

"What the barnacles?" he jumped a bit, raising one eyebrow as something dark green and jellybean-shaped popped up from inside the coffee grounds.

"Heh," his eyes darted around the room, "geez, and here I was believin' the lie that coffee grounds are supposed to ward off insects. This thing must be dirtier and more filled with bacteria than I thought."

Coming up with a quick solution to this problem, he pulled a wooden toothpick out from his shirt pocket and poked the 'insect'."

"YOWWW!"

"AHHHHHH! MOTHER OF PEARL!"

Mr. Krabs nearly toppled over when the creature burst out of the old grounds and screamed at the top of its lungs, holding its backside.

"Hey, _what's_ the big idea?!" Plankton angrily said, glaring up at him and rubbing his rear end.

"Wha— you just— " Mr. Krabs shook his head and gritted his teeth._ "' What's_ _the_ _big_ _idea'?! _Just what do ye think _you're_ doin' inside _**my**_ new coffee maker?!"

"**Not** looking for the secret formula, that's what! And ya call this thing 'new'? Heh! Yeah, right. Maybe it's new to a homeless person living at the dump," Plankton's voice trailed off as he looked to the side, avoiding Krabs' scolding gaze.

"What— the secret formula?! Why would I be hidin' me precious sandwich recipe inside an old coffee maker?!"

"I thought you just said it was 'new'?" Plankton snidely spat, squinting.

"Never mind what I said! Just… get the barnacles out of me utensil before I poke ya again – and if ye don't get out, this time, it's goin' in _deep_."

Plankton couldn't help the pool of saliva from filling in his mouth as his fear grew upon seeing the threatening look in Krabs' eye, while he held the toothpick like a miniature barbecue skewer.

Being squashed every day was one thing, but not being able to use the toilet for a long time was a _whole_ _other_ thing.

Plankton pulled himself out from the filth and jumped onto the desk, looking at himself with pure disgust while trying to brush off the wet crumbs. "Alright, Krabsy, I'm out. Yeesh, are you forgetful or what? Don't you clean things before you go to use them again?"

"Forgetful? Ha! Says the man who told me he'd give me a call to finish his pathetic little insult yesterday," Mr. Krabs crossed his arms over his chest, peering down at him.

"I couldn't think of a phrase clever enough to finish destroying you with, okay?! I got caught up in making Karen's gift after I got home anyway." He hopped down from the dark surface, landing on the floor and slowly approaching the exit.

Deciding that their bet over who made their woman the better gift was more interesting than drinking cocoa drained through a moldy appliance, Mr. Krabs set everything down and followed the tiny schemer. He should have known that he would pull something like this sooner or later, considering how he had previously mentioned something about sneaking off to the Krusty Krab and "getting his hands on that formula."

"Oh, yeah? And just what is it that ye made for her, Mr. 'I built the Chum Bucket with my own two hands'?" Mr. Krabs sneered.

Plankton was no bigger than a grain of rice, so he could've easily just walked straight between Krabs' legs to go out into the restaurant, but something about that mocking smile and laugh infuriated him and urged him to reply, even though the crab didn't deserve his attention.

"Ugh," Plankton growled, "I already told you, I'm not tellin' you a _thing _about what I made." He closed his eye, giving a smug smile and clasping his hands behind his back. "You'll just have to wait for Karen to open it so that you can be knocked right off your pointy crab legs like a sailor being tossed about at sea, and _then_ you can wallow in jealousy and misery." His smile flipped like a dime and turned into a rageful frown. "Which is exactly what **I'm** always left to do every time you kick me out of here!"

Mr. Krabs wanted to cackle at him jumping up and down like a spoiled toddler. "Argh, argh, argh!" he laughed, "I wouldn't have to kick ye out if you would just **stay** out." He bent over to give Plankton another glare, and to the evil genius, this crusty moron bending down to his level reminded him of the giant, red monster that always attacked him in his nightmares.

Now that he thought about it, Mr. Krabs **was** that giant, red monster in his nightmares!

"And fine. If you're so sure about your wife's present knockin' me off me sailor's legs and makin' me wallow in all the self-pity that _you're_ always wallowin' in, then I suggest ye prepare to get blown all over like there's no tomorrow, 'cause the gift I made for me Sweet Puff is gonna suck you up and spin you around like a big, deadly, ragin' whirlpool." He stood back up after breathing his rotten breath in Plankton's face. "And then ye can send me that dollar by bottle after that whirlpool spits you out and leaves ye stranded on 'Loser Island', _**sucker**_!"

"Ha! I would love to be stranded _anywhere_, so I wouldn't have to see your face!"

"That makes two of us, ya one-eyed parasite!"

"Large, greedy coin sniffer!"

"Tiny, thievin' bilge rat!"

"Hard shell jerk-face with boxing gloves!"

Mr. Krabs stared at him blankly, confused by such an insult until he lifted his shiny, red claws and examined them.

"Well, they do kind of look like boxing gloves," Plankton shrugged, looking at him nonchalantly.

"Hey, you're right." Krabs gave a crooked smile, which Plankton returned to him for a few moments until they started spitting out more ridiculous names, talking over each other.

* * *

"I gotta say, Puff, going to that fancy _Mann's_ _Manliest_ _Man_ _Gifts_ store near your place was the best idea ever. I really think Sheldon's gonna love his little surprise," said Karen, pulling out a light green gift box, wrapped in a purple ribbon. The package was rectangular and the size of Plankton himself; whatever was inside of it was sure to please him, as long as it wasn't a tiny fruitcake, which he typically hated but had gotten plenty of from Mr. Krabs the year before.

"I'm glad you think so, Karen," said Mrs. Puff, walking alongside the computer while wearing her long, blue coat and matching scarf. "That place always has the best deals, which I'm sure would make Eugene very happy," she chuckled and pulled out a square box that was concealed inside of a bronze-colored mesh bag, with a shiny, brown ribbon tied around it. "Speaking of deals, I think he's going to love this heavenly new musk I got him; it was on sale for a dirt-cheap steal, but you would never know because it smells so expensive and **just**— "

"_Heavenly?"_ Karen finished, her tone knowing and jokingly annoyed. "Hm, so you've said… _thirty_-_eight_ _times_."

"You mean you've been counting?"

"Yes. I also counted how many times you used the tester for that cologne at the store – _twelve_. Ya know, something tells me you don't buy Mr. Krabs those fragrances every year just for _him_ to enjoy."

"Oh? What makes you say that, Karen?"

As they approached the outskirts of the Krusty Krab, Karen looked to her left at her Gal Pal as she took out the bag again, opened it up, and pulled it out the bottle to sniff the atomizer deeply until her nostrils looked like small caves.

"I may have a screen instead of eyes, but I can still see the obvious."

The two laughed joyously as they entered the glass doors of the restaurant, Mrs. Puff placing Krabs' gift back in her pocket just in time before he could see it.

But even if she were spraying it all over the place, right out in the open, he wouldn't have noticed because he was too busy arguing with Plankton in the doorway of his office.

Karen and Puff shared a bored glance, both knowing that they should've expected something like this. "Hah," they sighed together, "_Men_." This wasn't the first time that that short word had been uttered; this reminded them of the time when they had shrunk down as amoebas in Sandy's treehouse, and those two barnacle heads, along with SpongeBob, had somehow infiltrated their space, interrupting their Gal Pal time.

"You know, I think they're somehow still unaware of the fact that we saw and participated in their shenanigans yesterday," Karen leaned in toward her, speaking quietly while looking away from the argument and scanning the strangeness that was taking place: SpongeBob tugging on the phone cord that was being stretched across the room, Patrick yelling into the receiver as he clung to the tree, Squidward laying on top of a table with a pillow under his head while he read a magazine, which really wasn't all that strange for him to do, and finally, Gary flipping over a skateboard and staring at it as if he was searching for specks of dust.

"I think you may be right, Karen," Mrs. Puff said, placing a fin against her lip and observing the scene. "Do you think we should tell them about all that, and that we know about the bet, too?"

"Mm, no. I think we should wait to tell them everything _after_ we've seen what they've got in store for us in their tiny pockets, which especially applies in Sheldon's case, ha, ha!"

The two women shared a small giggle as they got closer to the office door.

"Patrick, can you give the phone back now, please?" SpongeBob asked, his voice nagging as he became more and more annoyed with his friend. "I really don't think Sandy's going to get off the line with whoever it is she's talking to any time soon. Oh, hi, Karen! Hi, Mrs. Puff! Merry Christmas!" he waved to the ladies, his sweet and childish smile returning, which, to Mrs. Puff, was just creepy. Even when he was just being his usual kind self, he was still a menace to her.

"Merry Christmas, SpongeBob. Are you having some phone trouble?" asked Karen, nodding to Patrick as he continued yelling nonsense into the receiver.

SpongeBob glanced in the direction she was looking in and chuckled shyly. "Heh, heh, yeah, you could say that. Patrick's just trying to help me get ahold of Sandy."

"Hey, who are you callin' a jerk, line?!" Patrick demanded, staring angrily at the phone as if it were a real person. "You're the one being a jerk; you won't let my friend talk to Sandy!" he waited three seconds and then released an irritated breath, as though he had gotten a response. "Don't you back-sass me!"

"You no good, pointy-legged money-grubber!" Plankton spat at Krabs, stealing Karen and Puff's attention away again.

"Slimy, green chunk of snot!" Krabs retorted.

"HA! So, that's the best you can do, eh? I win!"

"What?! You most certainly do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"We say you're both losers."

"Huh?"

Karen and Mrs. Puff couldn't help but laugh again at their men looking at them like they were lost drivers asking for directions on the highway.

"Eh, heh, heh…" Mr. Krabs nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his head with his claw. "Good evenin', ladies!"

Plankton's expression was no less diffident. "W-we were just— "

"Having an insult contest?" Karen asked, looking at Mrs. Puff, who nodded with a smile.

"We know," said Mrs. Puff.

Now finding something more meaningful to wrap their egos around, Mr. Krabs and Plankton jumped to the sides of their women, displaying what they thought were smooth, suave smirks. But really, they looked dopier than Patrick whenever he got free ice cream.

"Heh-hay, Karen, babe, what's shakin'?" Plankton chuckled as he stood at the bottom of her stand, twirling his finger around her metal pole.

"Ahoy, me sweet Pullily-poo! How's that new blue coat I bought keepin' ye tonight, eh? Feelin' warm, I suppose?" asked Mr. Krabs, wrapping his arm around the boating teacher.

The women looked at each other; Karen rolling her green, digital eyes, while Mrs. Puff did the same with her real ones.

"Well, if anything on me was 'shaking', I think it'd be safe to say I'd be malfunctioning."

"Oh, yes. It certainly is warm, Eugene. It's _been_ keeping me warm for quite a long time…" Mrs. Puff chuckled, her smile then fading into an unamused scowl. "After all, _**I**_ bought it over ten years ago."

Instantly, the two egos were popped and began to deflate faster than a pair of blown tires.

* * *

_Ten minutes later…_

The group of Bikini Bottomites was still being entertained by the sight of Patrick yelling his head off into the phone.

"Come on, don't be such a coward, line! If you think you're so tough, why don't you come out of this phone and show me what you got, huh? I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" Patrick's voice thundered.

"Oh, what's the use, Patrick?" SpongeBob sighed sadly, bags forming underneath his eyes. "Let's just forget about it."

"Okay."

"OOH!"

SpongeBob flinched in pain when the receiver came flying back and hit him in the face. He rubbed his cheek with one hand while picking up the object and setting it back down on the hook with the other.

Mr. Krabs scuttled over to him, placing a comforting claw on his shoulder. "Don't be disappointed, boy-o. Sandy's probably just busy talkin' with her furry relatives, heh."

"I don't know, Mr. Krabs. She wouldn't pick up all those times I called her, and then the line was busy for so long…" he frowned. "What if something's gone wrong?"

"Well, we can't know that for sure, lad. Not unless she finally decides to— "

_**RING**_, _**RING**_, _**RING**_!

SpongeBob's eyes shot towards the phone like it had caught on fire. His yellow hand raced to pick up the receiver, and he slammed it against his earhole. "Hello, is that you, Sandy?" he frantically spoke.

"Howdy, SpongeBob. Yeah, it's me."

"Phew! Thank goodness!" he smiled. "What a relief. I was so worried something terrible happened to you guys. I thought maybe one of your nieces kicked a hole through your dome and you had to call for help. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Sandy's small smile turned into a frown upon hearing him refer to her family, who were nowhere to be seen in her treehouse.

"Yeah, about that, SpongeBob…"


End file.
